


Lukewarm

by serotobin



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 89,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serotobin/pseuds/serotobin
Summary: It’s easy, it’s in every book she’s ever read as a child, you have a soulmate and they have you, it’s easy.At least, it’s supposed to be.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 313
Kudos: 495





	1. Voyage.

**Author's Note:**

> The italics will mostly be flashbacks that will tell the story of what happened between them, but they’ll also be for a recurring day dream she has where she’s burning.
> 
> It should make sense as we go if you want to give it a shot.

_She feels the droplets of sweat fall down the back of her neck._

_She huffs out a breath, not quite exhausted._

_She can still do it, she just needs to readjust._

_The weight of the duffle bag slides off her shoulder, back onto the floor._

_Not even close, she’s not even close to the trunk._

_She tries again._

_She lifts, she struggles, she sweats, she aches, she drops._

_She tries again._

_Until her legs snap, and her knees fall._

_She just needs to readjust._

_She tries again.  
_

“You look just like my middle child, you know that?” 

Her eyes struggle to stray from the heat waves slowly leaving the graystone of the driveway, but her full toothed grin is plastered on her face instinctually at hearing his voice.

He looks good, maybe a bit aged, not since she last saw him, but since she last saw him _here_ in front of the double doors painted from a messy closed can she knows is labeled Cambridge Blue.

She watches him carefully take the four steps down the stones illuminated by the solar lights of the walkway, all of it surrounded by the fiery gold of the sky, and she finally lets his words settle into her mind. 

The words sting, regardless of the gentle tone and the playfulness she knows they were created with, but thankfully the scene in front of her reminds her of dinner time and bikes thrown quickly in the driveway, and the sting is met with a bandaid for now.

She’s found herself in the same familiar embrace not long ago, only just recently at college graduation, but this feels different, the warm scent of her childhood home surrounding him like a fragrance as he holds her, so she lets him linger until she thinks he’s fallen asleep.

“Okay dad, can't feel my legs,” she mumbles into his shoulder, she hears his guilty _oh_ loud and clear as he clears his throat and holds her shoulders as if the last minute wasn’t enough time to confirm she was really here. His satisfied smile appears shortly after, and she fondly scoffs at his dramatics.

“I made dinner,” he starts as he brings his hands to her right shoulder, surely going for the leather strap of her duffle bag to carry it in for her, but her grip tightens. She waves him off as they start walking, not without a persuasive attempt with a scolding look, though. He eventually gives up, continuing a step in front of her to open the door as he goes on.

“I even did the swifty hose by your room to get rid of any dust on the floor.”

“Swiffer jet.” She easily corrects him with a quirky eyebrow as he ponders the correction and quickly accepts just as easily with a confident nod that says _I’ll get it right next time._

_He won’t._

The first thing she notices when she steps inside the open door is the scent.

it smells the same as she left it four years ago when she was eighteen and leaving for college. It smells the same as when she was nine and watching Monday morning cartoons before school.

Logically, she knows the smell of a home is really the detergent preferred in the household, the candles that are burned overtime into the walls, maybe even the floorboards that have their own specific scent of oak.

To her, though, it’s the smell of her sister's shampoo, and the smell of burnt pasta sauce long forgotten for a golf tournament on tv with her mothers fond grunts in the background.

She can practically see the imprints of small wet feet padding across the floor from days spent in the pool etched into the wood as she toes off her sneakers in the entrance of the den.

It’s as hard to believe as it isn’t that the home she hasn’t stepped foot in in the last four years hasn’t changed one bit, everything looking untouched like a photograph of when she left. 

There's one difference, though. Maybe to most people like her, it’s meant to be a good difference with the last few years spent around rowdy roommates, but this drastic of a difference, she doesn’t even know if she’ll be able to sleep.

“It’s quiet.” she says absentmindedly to the space around her, It’s almost eerily quiet, the kind of quiet you’re half waiting for something to just pop out like a movie.

She doesn’t expect an answer, but she gets one.

“Not always,” he challenges behind her as he makes it into her view. He’s doing his fake dad jog, the one where he’s really just walking at regular speed down the two steps into the den and to the remote on the couch where he turns the TV on.

Sure enough, the sound of basketball highlights fills the room her dad is stupidly grinning in the middle of.

There’s probably a sad undertone to the moment, but the weight of the bag across her right shoulder is heavy, and the heat at the nape of her neck is starting to feel like molten lava, so maybe she’ll think about it some other time.

“Christen, why don’t you go eat while I bring your bag to your room and-”

“Can I- I actually think I’ll go up and shower first if that’s okay, I feel pretty gross, it was a long drive.” she half pleads, hoping he won’t take it the wrong way, it’s just, the feeling of cold water right now is exactly what she needs, even if it's a little selfish.

“Yeah, of course,” he answers with understanding eyes, but she sees the tell tale signs of an _almost_ Press pout, but there’s a childlike lightness to it, and she knows it’s okay.

She gives him an easy eye roll as she lightly taps his chest with the back of her hand and walks past him, and it feels a whole lot like telling a kid they can’t hangout with their friend until they clean their room.

“I’ll be back down, and then you can tell me all about the uh- knuckles,” she starts up the stairs with a stifled laugh at the groan she knows is coming behind her.

“It’s the knicks!” 

Right, she’ll get it next time.

_She won’t._

∞

The shower is as good as any, it’s as cold as she usually takes them, not ready to leave until she’s practically shivering to the bone, the only difference now is a warm fluffy towel waiting for her in her bathroom.

She smiles to herself imagining her dad restocking freshly dry tumbled towels in a bathroom he’ll never use, and hopes this was the first time he did it.

 _It wasn’t._

Walking back into her room, she knows she’s meant to feel thankful.

Most people would be, when it comes to parents especially, the appreciation of their things being left alone, their rooms being unexamined and untouched would bring anybody gratitude.

Not a single thing in her room has been touched since she left it, even the Nemo painted rock on her shelf is haphazardly placed facing the wrong direction, a last minute decision made in haste to not bring with her.

She should be thankful, but if she’s honest, she wishes her father would have let a couple loose tigers out in here to rip everything to shreds and move everything around before she came back.

She finds clean sweatpants and a shirt easily, strategically stored at the very top of her opened travel bag happily thrown on the floor. She decides to unpack tomorrow, knowing she should spend the rest of the time her fathers awake before his old people bedtime with him.

She lugs her bag up to the bed, and sits with a huff, stretching the long day out of her bones, and she smiles sadly into her hands.

It’s tinged with guilt, but it’s mostly relief, maybe a bit of pride at ripping the band aid off and finally being here. 

She’s _home._

She lets her body fall across the bed, the start of stretching the day out of her body starting in her lower back, and her arms stretching above her head with a yawn.

It feels good, and the contented sigh that leaves her mouth proves it, and the deep breaths she takes with her eyes shut feel healing, even if she can’t explain why. 

And when she’s finally opening them to the view of her bedroom ceiling, her body is recoiling as if trying to protect her, but it’s too late. 

She’s sat up into her hands, and the tears feel far too hot on her face, so hot they feel like they were pulled from somewhere too deep to be fresh. 

It’s her own fault for forgetting. 

She had prepared herself for everything, she didn’t cry when she drove the roads the opposite direction for the first time on her way home. She didn’t cry when she turned the corner of the sleepy beach town road built of brick, small cafes waiting to close and the bakery she knows has the best vanilla scones.

She didn’t cry when she pulled into the driveway, or when she saw the tire swing hanging off of the same tired oak tree.

She didn’t even cry when she stepped foot inside the home she had for the first eighteen years of her life, not one tear, but she prepared for it all. 

So how could she forget _these_. 

Even in the golden glow of the fairy lights in her room that need no help in lighting a path, she can see them as bright as ever. 

The illuminated fluorescent green of the stars on her ceiling are brighter than she remembers.

They used to feel dull to her, when she was looking up with a tongue through missing teeth and a stuffed dog in her arms, she remembers as much when she told her dad when he finished with the last bit of thumbtack standing on a stepladder.

She doesn’t understand how she could have felt that way now with the light of them now feeling like they practically burn. 

_She lifts._

_It burns._

_She burns._

_She’s burning-_

“Christen, dinner is getting cold!”

She’s still sitting up breathless in her hands, one quickly rubbing at the scorching heat behind her left ear with a hiss. She’s as thankful as ever that she can clearly hear he’s still downstairs, not knowing how she would have been able to reassure him with the broken look she knows is on her face.

She can handle this the way it is, the way that it’s only on her, but she can’t, she _won’t_ let him deal with it.

It’s why she’s here in the first place.

She shuts the light on her way out with a new spark of hope and determination while she remembers the words from therapy easily, _you have to feel it to heal it._

Well, she’s _feeling_ it. 

∞

It takes a little over two weeks, and maybe if she was being more critical about it, she’d feel behind, but she figures it's already been four years, what the hell is two weeks.

It takes two weeks for her to feel ready to reach out. Two weeks of waking up on the couch to the sound of her dad making coffee in the kitchen. Two weeks of confused looks as she pretends the pain in her back just needs a little stretch as she folds the throw blanket back up. 

Two weeks of talking about all the worse sports than soccer, her dad preferring golf and basketball since she was born, but making adjustments for her sake. 

They talk, and they cook, and they laugh until tears gather at the corner of their eyes, and she’d be ignorant to believe he hasn’t helped her along, even when she thinks she’s as far forward as she’s capable alone.

She’s still going.

Most of all, she feels ready.

So, yeah, it takes something like four years and two weeks, but she’s _ready_.

It’s a few minute walk to the beach, quick and quiet, usually taken at the break of dawn or the beginning of dusk, it’s as natural as breathing for her, she could do it backwards or blindfolded.

She leaves her dad with a kiss to the cheek and a promise to be back before he’s asleep, and it feels almost like every other time she’s done this, minus the glint of happiness in her eyes.

The sounds of the ocean have always been familiar to her, from the just barely audible sound of the waves when their backdoor is open at home, to the abrupt roaring of them when her feet are in it, but her favorite is when she’s here.

The very beginning of the sand past the wood of the small walkway, it’s the perfect sound, something she’s always described in her head as the in between.

The first feeling of evening cooled sand between her toes after she kicks off her sneakers is heavenly. The sand is soft and sugar pretty in the deep orange cream glow of the sky, and the familiarity of pulling the bottom of her jeans past her ankle sits comfortably warm.

The breeze around her from the ocean waves is fresh and clean, and she all but giggles at how beautiful it all is. 

It feels like a welcome home. 

It’s as easy a question to answer as it is not, but she asks it to herself anyway, how could anything have kept her from coming back here?

She knows she’s close now, it’s the very reason why she’s busied herself counting her footsteps, but somehow she doesn’t feel scared, not really. 

If anything, she feels a little calm, the idea of finally fixing all of this. 

The part that’s a little frightening if anything, is that there’s no scenario she’s made up in her head that has fit _this_ calmness.

She didn’t need one, but it’s the last sign that tells her she’s ready.

At least, she thinks she is, as she gets closer.

She finds her facing the waves, leaning on the low part of the white rail of the lifeguard tower, and part of Christen feels like this is exactly how she left her.

The other part of her knows it’s nothing like how she last saw her at all.

It takes something like four years and two weeks to find herself in her presence, and it’s a lot of time to think of something to say.

It’s just, she’s just now realizing she didn’t spend a single second of that time _doing_ that.

So she instead prays autopilot Christen has this in the bag.

“Hi.” She breaks the silence as she finishes her steps a few behind her.

_At least she remembers where to start._

She watches on as the word moves between them, straight into the other girl's ears as her body gently bounces off of the rail, her eyes ready to find her own.

She finds them easily, and maybe that's something humans have always been good at doing, hearing a sound and finding the source.

_Yeah, she thinks that's a thing that happens._

Christen expects it to be awkward, and maybe it is, but her teeth find her bottom lip, and suddenly it all seems pretty ridiculous.

She sees the other girls lips wrap around a word that looks like a similar soft greeting in response, but she doesn’t hear it over the waves, and she finds herself just a little angry with them for it.

The familiar feeling of warmth starts behind her ears as she lets out a breath and she watches as the girls hands busy themselves going deep into the pockets of her windbreaker, and finally takes in the familiar view of tan legs in shorts. 

They’re uncharacteristically a brighter blue with turtles on them, and _that’s_ new.

She must have gone shopping once or twice in the last four years, _imagine that._

The observation proves to be a mistake, though, as autopilot Christen wings it.

“I like the turtles,” she finds her finger half pointing at them casually as her face scrunches up, and the girl looks almost just as confused as her until she looks down to find them herself.

Luckily, while she wonders if autopilot Christen smoked a joint this evening, she finally hears her voice.

“Oh- thanks, they work,” she starts with a small shrug and Christen would maybe question what that even really means if she wasn’t busy listening to her voice for the first time in four years, but Tobin clarifies anyway.

“Like, with the ocean thing.” She clarifies with furrowed eyebrows at her own answer and a vague gesture, and Christen's own raise as she bites into her lip harder.

It’s not funny, really, what’s happening, but a small laugh leaves her lips helplessly anyway, because this is all ridiculous enough.

When she brings her eyes back up, her company is biting back a laugh herself as she stares into the water, but less free, definitely stiff and clearly self deprecating. 

That information alone pushes Christen even further to get on with this as she mirrors the girl next to her, hands in her hoodie, eyes on the water.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she starts with her eyes still firmly on the tired waves washing ashore, she feels further from autopilot as moments have gone by, and maybe logical and calculated Christen will be upset with this later, but it feels right to apologize, at least as a formality, so she does.

“I’m sorry for asking on such short notice..” She trails off and immediately feels heated frustration tense through her body, not knowing how to explain, and the breeze that washes over them with the next wave that washes up causes a slight shiver down her spine.

She thinks it’s saying _get it out already.  
_

“I wasn’t ready before,” she closes her eyes, just for a second, focusing on the slight chill the ocean is offering, effectively cooling the back of her neck as she tries to breathe the heat away on her own.

“I wasn’t ready but.. I’m good, I’m good now.” she looks to her left and finds soft brown eyes easily as she offers a small smile pulling at her own lips, soft and real.

It’s not offered back, but she can see in her eyes that she’s deep in thought, and that’s good enough for her, so after something like four years and two weeks, she finally says the words out loud.

“I want to be friends.”

A pause.

Not exactly an expected one, if she’s honest, because what else could this have really been?

“You.. want to be friends.” She hears the words mirrored back soft and slow, not quite in question, but definitely being pondered, and she’s not quite sure why, but she feels an urge to be defensive at the confusion.

“I know you feel it too, Tobin,” she lets her know, matter of factly, but in a tone still kept as soft as she can muster.

Tobin, however, reminds Christen just how fast she can change from awkwardly soft and open to _this_ as she shakes her head with a laugh that isn’t humorous at all. 

And just like that, she feels the same anger bubble up that she’s worked so hard to let go of, apparently it doesn’t take much when she’s faced with the source.

_She’ll work on it._

She wants to scoff as she watches Tobin’s eyes find the sand beneath her own bare feet with a smirk being clearly bitten back, but she doesn’t. Christen tries to bring herself back down, taking a quick deep breath, and she tries again. 

“It won’t go away otherwise, I’ve read about it,” understatement of the year, maybe, but she finishes her point. 

The mood however, has shifted and they’re teetering over the edge of something.

She watches Tobin nod in what looks to be understanding, not sure if she’s looked into it the same, but imagines she has, because no matter how much she may not care emotionally, the physical aspect is strong enough to disturb the hulk.

There’s a silence that stretches, and she’s about to break it, knowing Tobin isn’t the type to, but she surprises her in more ways than one. 

“So.. we just- you think being friends would help?” Tobin asks with a tone dangerously close to smug, as if Christen has no idea what she’s talking about.

Christen brings her tongue into her cheek and tilts her head to keep her own tone neutral before she speaks. 

“Sometimes people just need to make peace, get closure-“ 

“Closure,” Tobin cuts her off, and really, she has no right to repeat _that_ word, and it has Christen falling right into it. 

“Yeah, _closure_ , I’d say there wasn’t a whole lot of that, would you?” It’s said with a fire, but it’s honest, and Tobin doesn’t say anything. 

_Good, you did this._

The breeze from the ocean is feeling close to uncomfortable, making any warmth in her body feel like it was never there at all, so she tries again. 

“I leave the day after Christmas.” she lets her know for a timeframe if anything, hoping it doesn’t take nearly that long for her to decide but-

“That’s oddly specific,” Tobin meets her eyes again, leaning back onto the post, hands still deep in her windbreaker, and it seems oddly like a challenge.

Tobin’s lips move in a subtle teasing pout, and Christen decides she doesn’t like that.

_She doesn’t like that at all._

She meets brown eyes, sharp and clear, and pulls the corners of her mouth up, and she says what they both already know.

“I met someone.”

Her eyes are laser focused on Tobin’s face as it leaves her lips, and it’s petty, and she knows it is, but it’s done now.

What she doesn’t expect is Tobin to be as expectant of her admitting it as she seems, her features schooled immaculately still, a small grin at the very corner of her mouth, and it’s taunting, and so unlike the girl she knew.

Figures, in an attempt to hurt her, she hurt herself, it’s definitely on brand, she’ll give herself that.

She feels the chill of the night almost winter-like now, begging her to get home, so she brings her hands deeper into her own hoodie with her sneakers just barely being held onto by two fingers now in an attempt to be warm, and she gives in to the silence one last time.

“Look, I’ll be here for a while, and you don’t have to decide now but-”

“Are you hungry?”

“ _What_?” she stops abruptly.

“I’m asking if you’re hungry.” Tobin all but falls over herself with how casually smug she’s being, and Christen feels the anger starting to boil at the base of her skull.

“You think this is funny?”

“I’m asking if you’re hungry, Christen.” 

“You’re being smug.”

“I’m not being smug.” 

“I don’t like you.” Christen just barely interrupts her as she finishes her last word, and It comes out more serious than maybe she even wants it to be, but she figures there's a good reason for that. 

The silence that follows tells her Tobin feels it, too.

“Well, how are we going to be friends if you don’t like me?” Tobin offers with her voice a few octaves higher than normal and a dramatic shrug and a bit of mirth in her big, dumb eyes.

Christen has a feeling this may be more work than it’s worth, and when she thinks of the alternative, the urge to just lie down and give up is overwhelming.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Tobin's voice is closer and a tad softer than it was earlier, but there’s still a hint of humor.

“I just meant I could buy you dinner, we could start that whole friendship thing..” she stops and blinks at the warning look Christen gives her.

“I’m serious,” Tobin ends with a more genuine look in her eyes, maybe with just a sparkle of something annoyingly Tobin, but she figures that doesn’t go away, unfortunately.

She pretends to think about it, for Tobin’s sake, but in reality there was no chance in hell. She needs just a little bit of time to prepare for that.

Especially with Tobin’s new sense of humor, apparently.

The thought brings her to a quick conclusion, and she bites her lip so hard it almost bleeds with how hard it is to keep a straight face.

“How about tomorrow night,” she tries to hide the playful glint in her eyes, but she knows it’s about to be useless as she watches genuine curiosity on Tobin’s features as she listens on. 

“My dad still makes Sunday dinner, I’m sure he’d like to see you.” 

Tobin’s eyes drift off as she blinks at the idea, frozen with a carefully constructed fake smile, and it’s deserved. 

In reality, Tobin has to want this to work as much as she does, there’s no way it’s a one way street, so if Tobin can dish it, she’ll also have to take it. 

She doesn’t think of the past a lot, not more than she has to, but if there’s one thing she could never forget as she walks home in the royal blue of the sleepy August night after whispered goodbyes, it’s this.

Papa Press is the kryptonite to Tobin’s batman

_or whatever her mom used to say._


	2. Riptide.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> papa p is oprah but with food.

_She’s excited._

_Like, really excited._

_So excited, the zipper to her pink lunch box gets stuck at least three times, but she’s finally got it open. She squeals and shows all her friends her frosted animal cookies, and they show their own snacks for the day with the same toothy grins with small teeth._

_She has no interest in trading for Ali’s vanilla pudding today, that’s for sure._

_She moves around from her peanut butter and jelly with the crusts cut off, just like her mom knows she likes it, to her animal cookies, back and forth. It’s good, it’s really good, and she’s giggling into her bites because Kelley really shouldn’t be chewing like that, and she thinks it’s the best lunch she’s ever had.  
_

_She's about halfway done with both when she notices a table usually empty in the corner, definitely less empty than usual, but definitely not full._

_Christen doesn’t remember seeing her there before, or anywhere for that matter, so she has to be new. She’s focusing hard to remember what they do when new kids come into her class, remembering to be kind and talk about your names. She thinks she almost remembers it all by the time she notices the new girl must have forgotten her lunch._

_She remembers she forgot her lunch box at home once, she cried quietly on the bus until her cheeks were red, and by the time she got to school, her mom was waiting for her with it in the main office with a kiss, and she was so lucky for it._

_She looks around the table, and everyone is still giggling with each other, but she makes sure to whisper a quick ‘be right back’ to whoever is listening as she pumps her legs to fall from the seat and gathers her lunch._

_By the time she practically skips to the table, the girl's head is down into the elbow of her jacket resting on the table, and she doesn’t mean to scare her, but she thinks she does._

_“My mommy packed lots of snacks today, you can have some,” is her explanation when big sleepy brown eyes meet her own, and she waits for a moment before she gets a nod and climbs into the seat next to her.  
_

_She opens her lunch box to half the sandwich and the animal cookies that are left, and puts them in front of the girl as she waits to see what she’ll do._

_She watches on as she picks up the sandwich and takes a small bite, and watches with a satisfied grin when she takes a much bigger bite soon after._

_It is one of her mommy’s best ones, she thinks._

_“I’m Christen, but my friends call me Chrissy sometimes, but that’s not my real name,” she lets her know as she messily pokes a hole into her capri sun, missing a couple times. She hears a mumble next to her that she has no chance of hearing with the girl's mouth full, and waits for her to finish the bite as she looks on waiting._

_“I’m Tobin.”_

_“Toe-bin?” she asks to confirm, and gets a distracted nod of approval and a hum as she watches her new friend finish her half of the sandwich. “Is that your real name?”_

_Tobin nods confidently at first as she swallows, but looks like she’s thinking about it when she finds Christen’s eyes._

_“I think so, yeah.” Tobin shrugs, and it’s good enough for Christen as she watches her put as many animal cookies in her mouth as she can._

_She’s giggling so hard she feels the juice in her nose as she watches her in amazement, “how many did you put?”_

_“I don’t know,” is Tobin’s muffled answer with the biggest smile she can muster around them._  
  


The sound of her forehead sliding down the foggy mirror startles her. She moves her head just barely away, and the image of her slightly flushed reflection in the mirror has a frustrated huff leave her lips.

She brings more cold water into her hands from the bathroom sink and splashes her face, moving her cold hands to the back of her neck, and it helps. 

_A little_.

She finds some of her old clothes that never made it with her when she left in the drawers of her room, and she can’t imagine why she didn’t bring them when they smell so much like home. 

She definitely will bring them when she leaves this time. 

She calls out for her dad as she makes her way down the stairs, and the sound of the water starting to boil in the pot reminds her of what time it is. She looks out the patio doors when she makes it to the kitchen and scoffs when she finds him in his favorite chair with not a worry in the world and a smile to match. 

_It’s an absolute miracle he’s never burned down this house._

She puts the spaghetti in herself, lifts the lid of the sauce pot to stir, and the smell is so good she dips a finger in without thinking to taste, and hisses with a string of curse words that she _knows_ the neighbors probably heard. 

She brings her finger to run under the faucet and hears the door open, and before she can let him know she’s okay, her neck almost snaps at the sound of another voice behind her instead.

“You leave for a couple years and come back as a sailor?” Tobin is at least ten feet away as she finishes her _not funny at all_ joke and Christen quickly realizes ten feet is apparently too close.

She tries to scoot further into the kitchen counter somehow to subtly get away but as expected, she doesn’t get too far before Tobin is close enough to assess the injury over her shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Christen shuts off the water and wraps her finger with the kitchen towel before she moves further into the corner away from her, and if a stranger were watching on, it would maybe look like Tobin had an infectious disease. 

She doesn’t really care, to be honest. 

Neither does Tobin, if the dumb goofy look on her face is anything to go by. 

“You invited me,” Tobin whispers scandalously. 

She has a lot of questions on the tip of her tongue, starting with who let you in and why do you look so comfortable in my house again, but she thinks they both lead back to the same man. So she looks for him, but what she finds only brings her more questions. 

“What is- oh my god,” the sound of pitter patter on the hardwood is an absolute dream to her ears as she watches an excited German Shepherd make his way hurriedly to her as she brings herself to her knees and drops the towel. 

She’s wondering, of course, why the dog seems freakishly comfortable in her house, but it’s not that hard to put together, is it. There’s a pang of anger, minuscule, so tiny she almost misses it, but she’ll worry about it later. 

When the dog finally lets her breathe enough to find his collar as she scratches his fur murmuring soft words to him, she finds a small paw charm with his name engraved, and decides she’s not going to waste her time asking anything at all. 

Then again, the orange bandana was a dead giveaway on its own. 

“ _You’re so big, look at you_ ,” she whispers in his ear like it’s their little secret, pressing small kisses into his fur as he cries in excitement with the attention. 

“Don’t coddle him, he’ll get used to it.” Tobin warns plainly, but Christen can just barely hear the smile in her voice. 

“Oh no, not that.” Christen mocks as she stands back up, letting him continue to roam around the kitchen island freely. 

When the man of the hour walks in as the silence stretches on, he looks like he almost wants to turn around and leave as she burns holes through him with a questioning glare. He instead plasters a fake smile and casual laugh as he does his jog walk to the oven to finish dinner. 

Tobin, to her credit, takes the clue and brings herself and her four legged friend back outside, and as soon as the door shuts, her dad speaks before she can. 

“You met Nemo,” he smiles ear to ear, and it’s not going to work, not even a little. 

She doesn’t want it to, but the feeling of betrayal sits somewhere inside of her, and really it’s not rational at all. It’s not really about what he did or didn’t do while she wasn’t here, but it’s about him keeping it from her like a dirty secret. 

“You guys are still buddies, then?” It’s a childish accusation, half of her already feeling bad about it for later. He finishes the last bits of dinner as he turns the burners off and leans back into the island across from her with open eyes and a long exhale.

“Not really, no, I invite her over sometimes, she’s rarely come but- I still should have told you, I’m sorry for that.” Christen stares down at the floor, her burn long forgotten. 

She feels the anger settle a bit, knowing they weren’t close as can be the last few years the way she imagined in her head. 

Unexpectedly, however, there’s a sadness she can’t explain that comes with the knowledge, too. She breathes out a breath and watches him smile sadly before he tries to explain it all in two words.

”It’s Tobin,” he shrugs, as if that will excuse and explain everything without further questioning. 

_It does._

They share a look, one where she says she’s sorry for overreacting in her mother’s shade of green, and a light whip of a kitchen towel tells her he loves her for it anyway.

∞

“Do you want another piece, Tobin?” 

Christen is half a glass of red down already when she rolls her eyes over her wine glass, sighing inwardly at her dad's third attempt to get Tobin to eat more.

It started with practically begging her to have a second plate of spaghetti, and he’s now moved on to apparently trying to stuff pudding pie in her pockets before she leaves.

Tobin politely declines again, and he barely looks satisfied, almost like he might wrap it up for her to take home anyway, but he seems to accept it for now as he sighs in defeat and lets the door close behind him to bring the plates to the kitchen.

It was a good dinner, the weather is good for it outside, the glowing blue lights of the pool and the gold of the solar lights around the yard illuminating the tired blue of the sky itself. She’s enjoying the familiar sounds of the insects and animals around them with her eyes closed when she feels eyes burning the left side of her neck.

At least, she thinks its eyes, it’s not strong enough to be the all too familiar feeling of anything else.

But just to be sure, she slowly opens them, and she finds what she already knew was there.

Tobin is comfortably deep in her chair, legs up on the bottom rail of the outdoor table, arms snugly crossed, and she looks a little caught, but not embarrassed.

It doesn’t mean anything really, just genuine curiosity, it’s not like Tobin really ever had time to see it for herself, and she’d be lying if she said she didn't try to find her own on Tobin in the time she’s seen her.

_She didn't exactly pick a great spot for that, though, did she._

“It’s still there,” Christen confirms for her as she looks ahead into the trees, as if Tobin didn’t just spend a few moments looking at it for herself.

She looks back at her when the silence stretches, and she remembers the only way she can really heal from these things is if she feels them, and she can't exactly feel them if she has no answers to anything. So she tries to bring it up lightly, hoping it’s more of a teddy bear sneaking down the stairs sort of thing instead of a plunger. 

“The worst possible place for a sunburn, thanks for that.” Christen lightly adds. 

It’s an attempt to lighten the conversation enough to talk about it, but she doesn't hear anything for a beat, and she’s about to change the subject when she finally hears her soft voice over the sounds of the night creatures. 

“The smell of tums makes me want to gag now.” Tobin lets the words out soft and slow, maybe the gentlest tone she’s used in years. 

Christen turns around to meet her eyes with surprised laughter and disbelief, her voice high and soft, her eyebrows furrowed with a grin that can’t get much wider.

“You thought it was heartburn,” she realizes into the air between them. 

Tobin is looking at her with mock judgment, squinted eyes and a barely there smirk, but she sees the mirth in them as both of them rest their cheeks on the back of their chairs looking at each other.

Yeah, It’s _definitely_ the softest she’s been with her in four years, and she can’t help but want to take advantage of it, in the nicest of ways.

 _It is_ why she invited her over here to see her dad in the first place. 

_Kryptonite_ , isn’t it. 

She’s sitting here, feeling like she’s finally got a soft and open Tobin in front of her, the real Tobin, and she’s thinking about asking _why_ before she shuts down. 

Not _the_ why, but _a_ why.

_Why here?_

_Why this spot behind my ear?_

She opens her mouth to do as much, but her dad is popping his head out the back door, and her only hope is he isn’t about to offer Tobin the Christmas ham they haven’t even bought yet.

“Alright little- well, big ones, I’m heading to bed now.” he lets them know with a yawn for what Christen knows is dramatic effect, she lets him know as much with another eye roll, downing her last drop of wine.

She just doesn’t expect to see Tobin pushing her chair out to get up. 

Christen feels a slight panic now, not ready to say goodbye just yet, they finally got _somewhere_ and she’s so close, if she could just- 

“I should go, too, thank you for dinner,” Tobin is already being let in by her dad, and by the time Christen gets up to follow, she stops in her tracks as she turns the corner to a stiff Tobin in her dad's arms. 

She hears her dad's voice telling her to drive safe, loud and clear as she waits for them to separate, well, for him to separate, but she doesn’t hear exactly what the mumbled response is in his shoulder. 

It would be comical to most people, watching the way Tobin’s body is almost entirely non responsive to the embrace, almost like a child not wanting to be hugged in front of their friends, but to Christen, she’s seen this hug a million times before.

She shakes away the thought of asking her dad how warm adult Tobin feels. 

He kisses her right cheek before he pulls away, and Tobin is quick to check behind her and Christen is smart enough to avert her eyes before she can catch her. 

_She knows better than that._

While her dad is quick to say goodnight to her now, Tobin is quick to call Nemo and walk towards the door to get her shoes on, and it’s all happening so fast she barely thinks about what to say before Tobin is opening the door. 

_She didn’t even get to say goodnight to Nemo._

Her dad is far enough upstairs now that he turns the stairway light off, and Christen is watching the door close as she starts for her own shoes. 

It feels like Tobin is going a _whole_ lot faster than usual and Christen’s spaghetti heavy stomach is not going to be able to do all _this_ now. 

She’s opening the door in a haste as she hops into her second shoe with one foot and _God,_ who walks _that fast_ after eating _._ Tobin’s already got Nemo in the backseat and she’s rounding her car and Christen is practically whispering and screaming her name like a creepy stranger. 

“What the hell, Tobin-“ she’s about to ask her why she’s acting as if she just robbed a bank but she rounds the back of the car and all but runs into her waiting with the driver door open.

“What?” 

“Why are you- what’s-“ 

“You want to ask me questions, yeah?” Tobin asks in an accusatory tone, and it’s like whiplash for Christen. 

“You were fine- literally fine a minute ago, why are you-“ 

“Why don’t you just write up a questionnaire and I’ll write the answers down for you and slide it under your door, we don’t have to do all this.” Tobin gestures all around her angrily and Christen can only imagine she looks half as confused as she actually is as Tobin continues. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. you know exactly why you wanted me here.” 

She knows Tobin is far from clueless, so she doesn’t even bother pretending she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but not without defending herself.

“Since when do I control how nice my dad is to you, I don’t have that much power, _Tobin_.” 

“We don’t have to do this,” Tobin’s suddenly deflated and her arms are tiredly falling to her side in a pleading way, and Christen didn’t come this far to get stuck now. 

“We do, there’s no other way, you don’t understand, it’s not as simple as you think it is, I can’t just do it alone.” 

“Don’t you think if you really wanted to move on by now it wouldn’t burn?” Tobin snaps in a low voice like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I’m not the problem,” Christen seethes back like it’s obvious, and it’s a mistake.

It’s definitely a mistake to say it, for multiple reasons, one of them being the fact that it isn’t even true, but it falls past her lips anyway, in a desperate attempt to hurt her, and Christen feels sick about it. 

She never really understood what people wrote about, silence being deafening, but she thinks she’ll never forget what it sounds like now.

She doesn’t know if she expects it or if she just wants it, but she’s waiting for Tobin to say something, anything, something she knows will break her. 

But she doesn’t. 

And maybe Christen knew she would never do that all along.

The look on Tobin’s face is punishment enough for her outburst, but the slam of a car door and the image of headlights leaving her driveway really rubs it all in.

_She didn’t even get to say goodnight to Nemo._


	3. Lifeboat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would also cry for a pack of gushers

_It takes four shared lunches for Christen to realize Tobin simply doesn’t own a lunch box.  
_

_She lets her know as much when she finally asks why she keeps forgetting it with a giggle. She wonders why Tobin’s mommy won’t get her one, but she doesn’t ask. She just packs extra snacks on her own, and it becomes sort of second nature by the time her own mother catches on._

_She gets caught red handed in the box of gushers before bed, definitely hoping her mom doesn’t take them away, these are one of Tobin’s favorites._

_“Christen Annemarie,” her mom scolds lightly._

_“Tobin doesn't have a lunch box, momma.”_

_“Tobin?”_

_Christen nervously nods her head, big frustrated tears forming not wanting to be in trouble. She tells her about her new friend at school that quietly eats whatever she gives her, she tells her how she definitely prefers the orange slices to the banana slices. She tells her about how many animal cookies she can fit in her mouth, she tells her everything she can._

_By the time she’s done and catching her breath from all of her talking, she’s too young to understand the fond look on her mothers face as she stares back with two tiny eyebrows raised with hope._

_It’s when her mom takes her out that night on a spontaneous trip to the school section of Target that she starts to understand.  
_

_She’s just happy she doesn’t have to think twice when she sees the Finding Nemo lunch box, knowing Tobin loves to talk about fishes and the sea._

_She just wishes Tobin were here to pick it out, just in case._

_When she sees Tobin the next day, she runs the fastest she thinks she ever has with excitement bubbling through her chest and two lunch boxes clutched by her heart.  
_

_Tobin always starts lunchtime shy and Christen typically breaks her down slowly by initiating an eating contest or asking Tobin questions, but today Tobin is smiling Christen’s giddy smile right back._

_“I found you a lunch box!” Christen says almost out of breath with happiness as she showcases it to a confused Tobin whose smile fades._

_“You did?”_

_“Me and my mommy got it and we got you orange with fishes from Nemo!” Christen is quick to push the lunch box into Tobin’s hands and Tobin is slow to accept it, but she does._

_“I- I don’t know what to do with it.” Tobin stutters out in what can be best explained as happy confusion and Christen doesn’t quite know what she means, but she tries to help anyway._

_“You get snacks from your mommy at home and put them in it like me.” She reasons softly to help her friend and Tobin looks even more confused as she looks up from her new lunch box._

_“I don’t have a mommy.”_

_Christen is surprised to say the least. She’s never heard this before, and it’s not in any books her dad has read to her or any of the cartoon movies she’s watched._

_“You don’t have a mommy?” She questions as she blinks at her and Tobin shakes her head as she holds the lunch box just a little bit tighter._

_“I don’t think I have any snacks for us either but.. I do have something I can bring.” Tobin smiles goofily and Christen nods happily now that Tobin will have her own food to eat Monday for lunch._

_“Okay.” Christen smiles and starts to unpack their meal on the table as she gets Tobin’s favorite juice box out first._

_It’s when Tobin shows up Monday with a cold can of poorly opened spaghetti-o’s in her lunch box that Christen decides she’ll always sneak extra snacks._

_  
_ _Just in case._

The vibration of her phone startles her as she lays in the cool, clean sheets of the guest room downstairs, the double window pulled open for the coastal night air. 

It wasn’t exactly the plan, to end up in here, it was more of something like.. sleeping on the couch until she was ready to go to her actual room again.

It’s just, ready never came. 

She breathes out a breath of relief and calms the beat of her heart as she huffs and turns her phone over on the comforter. To be honest, she’s nowhere near as surprised to see the name in this moment as she is the message.

She’s making her way down the hall quick and quiet, almost full speed as she turns the corner of the open space of the kitchen and living area. She’s got her eyes scanning the back doors immediately, nobody in sight, and her heart almost burns when she thinks about where she could be.

She’s opening the lock in a haste and scanning the deck area when she finally spots her, just barely rounding the corner of her house. 

“Shhh,” Tobin is stumbling over the steps of the side of the patio and has her arms out as to say _be quiet_ as if Christen is the one making any noise. She’s quick to make it over to her to help, bare feet stepping lightly on the wood.

By the time she’s reaching out for her, Tobin is standing upright with her finger on her lips making desperate eye contact as she continues to shoosh her sloppily. 

“Please tell me you didn’t drive..“ Christen starts in a whisper that almost stops her heart as she waits for an answer. Luckily, Tobin is quick to put her out of her misery with a violent shake of her head to confirm she didn’t. She hears a string of soft mumbles and hears the words _walk_ and _beach,_ and it’s not exactly the most comforting thing in the world to think of Tobin walking here alone like this either, but she’s here now. 

She’s here, and she’s grabbing onto Christen’s arms as the latter is trying to steady her and she can feel Tobin’s eyes waiting for her own. Eventually, when she brings her own soft concerned eyes up to big determined brown ones, she’s met with as serious a look as she imagines Tobin can muster. 

“Had to tell you- sorry, had to tell you I want to do it,” Tobin nods eagerly as she mumbles in a confident whisper.

Christen is about to brush it off, imagining this is mostly nonsense and she just wants to bring her inside to sober her up, but Tobin keeps going. 

“Gonna fix this, gonna be really good and help it stop burning,” she lets her know and Christen takes in a sharp intake of breath at realizing it wasn’t nonsense at all.

It’s her fault Tobin is a mess, and she knows it, she made her feel guilty, just like she always had, and left her out to dry.

She hates herself for it.

She didn’t mean to, not really, she wanted to find her, go to her and apologize before this could happen, but she was also trying to convince herself to just give up. To just deal with the burning and not involve Tobin, to spend this time with her dad and leave and forget it ever happened.

She didn’t want to make Tobin do anything she didn’t want to, and she really didn’t want to do _this,_ so she waited, and she thought, and she thought some more for a week. 

And now they’re here, because she’s an idiot. 

“Tobin- Tobin, look,” she tries to grab her attention as her eyes wander and when Tobin does look, she says something she’ll have to say again tomorrow, but she means it all the same. 

“I’m sorry,” Christen whispers to her, soft and real, and Tobin accepts it easily with a smile and an eager nod again. 

“S’okay, we’re best friends,” she whispers back, and Christen can barely see her features in the moonlight, but she can make out the worry of her eyebrows.

Tobin looks like she’s all but finished her mission and she’s ready to turn around to leave, but Christen is grabbing onto her quick with a humorous scoff. 

“Oh, _hell no_ ,” she scolds in a whisper as she pulls her in by her hoodie, arm securely wrapped around her back, bringing her to the back door and inside. She ignores Tobin’s mumbles about a sailor as she locks the door again and makes careful eye contact with her with a finger on her own lips to make sure they don’t wake up her dad. 

Tobin, however, has Christen helplessly laughing into that same finger when she mirrors her motion sloppily back at her. She assumes she’s waiting for adult approval from her as she takes her shoes off at the door. 

She hasn’t seen a lot of drunk Tobin in her life, the latter never into the party scene and definitely not into the taste. She does however know enough about sober Tobin to know that it makes sense that even in this state, she’d remember her mom's strict no shoes in the house rule. 

_She did always listen to her most._

Tobin’s cooperative and quiet the whole way to the guest room, and when Christen is shutting the door silently behind them, she’s not surprised to find her pulling at the mattress when she turns around. Something she would do growing up for them to watch the stars glow properly in the middle of her childhood bedroom. 

“This isn’t my room,” Christen whispers to her, hoping she’ll at least sort of get what she’s saying.

_This isn’t like when we were younger._

She watches as big confused eyes scan their surroundings and watches sadly when those same eyes find the starless ceiling with realization. She listens carefully to the soft _oh_ that follows, and wonders why she didn’t just let her be. 

Tobin’s body falls heavily onto the bed as her palms rub into her eyes tiredly, and Christen almost finds herself thinking Tobin might actually have a hard time sleeping without the stars.

At least, until she remembers she’s done it for the last four years. 

Christen finds the spot to the right of Tobin and they sit in a comfortable silence, just them and the sounds of the world outside the open window. 

She feels Tobin’s eyes on the left side of her neck again, something she allows her to do unbothered this time, even if she’s not sure why. 

“You can ask them now,” Tobin murmurs to her, eyes still unmoving and Christen finally breaks her stare to meet them with her own. She knows she's referring to the questions she has, _all_ of the questions she has, but she has no interest whatsoever with Tobin in this state. 

There’s ugly sides to everybody, and Tobin has brought them out of her since she’s come home, but even the absolute darkest side of Christen wouldn’t do Tobin wrong like this. 

So she smiles softly at her before she brings her body down to lay back across the bed, and stares at her with a question until Tobin does the same beside her. Both their eyes on the dark moonlit ceiling with a flicker of a soft candle Christen lit earlier.   
  
It doesn’t take long to decide on what she’ll actually ask instead. 

“Tell me about Nemo,” she whispers. 

There’s a short pause, and eyes on her again, but apparently drunk Tobin is easily distracted, because Christen has never heard her talk this much in her life.

Tobin tells her about how she found him on her street, fed him and took him to the rescue place a town away desperately looking for his owners. Apparently he was officially a stray, no chip, no collar, no calls for him, nothing. 

“Nobody was looking for him,“ Tobin pauses here like the idea of Nemo being alone is worse than death by a thousand cuts. She mumbles through all of the things he likes and doesn’t like and how similar they are, and Christen laughs ridiculously at that, because Tobin being comparable to her dog like this is definitely something. 

“Sometimes.. when I work for too long, I want to go home just to be with him,” she admits shyly, definitely embarrassed, and Christen is quick to offer a solution. 

“You should bring him here those days, my dad loves him,” she turns her head to lay on her left cheek.

Tobin’s eyebrows work thoughtfully at the ceiling, and eventually she moves her head to find Christen’s eyes again and she softly hums in what sounds like agreement, or maybe she’s still just thinking. 

They stay like that for a while, facing each other, chasing each other's open eyes, taking turns closing them when it feels like too much.

Christen thinks they’re having a thousand conversations with their eyes, but it’s also very possible that Tobin is just thinking about what to eat for breakfast, especially with the smell of alcohol still heavy between them. 

She lets the silence stretch on, waiting for one of them to fall asleep, and for one second, she really thinks Tobin might be, but her eyes flutter again and Christen’s own close and she breaks it. 

“You smell like my grandma’s liquor cabinet,” she whispers so tiredly she barely heard it herself, and when she opens her own eyelids, it’s to Tobin’s barely there dimple that appears sometimes at the right side of her cheek. 

It’s the last thing she sees as she drifts off to sleep, and she doesn’t have a blanket on, but she’s so comfortably warm she’d kick it off anyway. 

∞

She wakes up to the feeling of sunlight on her skin and the sound of the September morning creatures outside, and it’s all very normal until her eyes flutter open. 

The first thing she thinks is the room is backwards, well, okay, maybe she’s backwards. Her feet are tucked under her pillow at the right side of the bed, and her body is covered by a sheet, and her neck feels just a tad sore.

The reality of the night before is coming back, and her next thought is obvious, but she doesn’t dwell on it. 

She just wishes she could have driven a tired and surely hungover Tobin home instead of her having to take such an early walk. 

She stretches the sleep out of her bones as she sits up, and when she makes the walk out into the hallway she means to brush her teeth and shower for the day, but the sound of her dad talking to himself so animatedly in the kitchen is unusual.

Sure maybe a couple song lyrics or a mumble is normal but this is just strange. 

_Unless.._

She pops her head out from the end of the hallway and like a sitcom itself, there’s Tobin at the kitchen island, looking a little hungover and a lot of _caught._

Christen huffs to herself as she prepares for her dad's smug looks this morning and sighs up the two steps from the hallway into the open area. At first she’s dreading it, thinking of how Tobin was found and what she was asked, but then she sees the french toast and suddenly she feels a little less annoyed.

“Morning sunshine,” her dad quips, and something dangerously close to a snicker follows, and Christen mimics his singsong greeting quietly back.

“I was just telling Tobin about my last golf trip and how I played with someone who caddied for Woody Austin.” 

She meets Tobin’s eyes over her half eaten french toast as she chews quietly and her eyes say something like _help me._ Christen stifles a laugh as she gives her a small shrug that says something like _should have been sneakier_ as she finds her usual seat across. 

“Riveting,” Christen says distractedly as she brings a fork to the stack of french toast to the plate waiting for her.

She can hear the early morning talk show in the background as she takes in the sound of the griddle still sizzling with bacon. By the time she’s chewing on her own first bite, Tobin is back to listening to her dad attentively as she sips her glass of orange juice, definitely pulpless, and Christen has no idea what he’s saying. She does, however, know Tobin’s hair is up in _that_ bun and her eyes are sleepy but they aren’t tired _._

It all feels very Sunday morning to her.

Eventually when all of their plates are clean and the morning show has changed to it’s regular scheduled news show, Tobin is looking about ready to say her thank you’s and bolt. Of course before she can finish her sentence, Christen is pushing her own stool out.

“I’ll walk you,” she purposely doesn’t give much room for discussion with the statement, but Tobin, of course, ignores that part. 

“That’s alright, I’ll-”

“Just let me go get dressed quick,” Christen is already starting up the stairs and barely has time to shoot a grin at the grumpy look on Tobin’s face.

In all fairness, she doesn’t want to scold her or pry, she just wants to make sure drunk Tobin was a fluke thing, or in other words, she supposes she just wants to make sure she’s okay.

She doesn’t take long, not really, she brushes her teeth and isn’t picky about the joggers or shirt she finds, but when she’s making her way down the stairs, she decides she hasn't taken long enough. 

Her dads voice is unmistakably soft when it makes it to her ears, but the words are even softer. “You can miss her, you know.” 

She doesn’t mean to hear it, in fact, she just barely hears it with how soft and low it is, but his voice is so deep and strong.

The real problem with it is, she definitely can’t _unhear_ it. Hypothetically, it isn’t good to eavesdrop, no, but it’s not really what she’s doing, she just doesn’t want to interrupt really.

She’s just _really_ polite, she thinks.

She doesn’t hear anything else for a moment, maybe a few light footsteps and something that sounds like a hug, or maybe a kiss to the cheek, or maybe both. She isn’t sure, but she doesn’t have much time to think about it as she hears footsteps ascend up the first part of the stairs.

She’s frozen and wanting to run at the same time and when he rounds the corner of the first flight, his face is quick to change from surprise to scolding. Just like she’s six again in the same spot, desperately trying to catch santa.

There’s a small sigh, but when he makes it to her stair, there’s a look and a comforting kiss to her cheek before he disappears.

She decides she won’t think about the words and why they were said, because that’s Tobin’s business. 

It takes her a moment to start making her way down again with a schooled look of lightness, and she finds Tobin leaning on the back of the couch with her arms snug across her chest patiently.

Christen definitely doesn’t think about how the wall next to Tobin is filled with pictures of her mom, but then again, she already knew where Tobin would be because of her dads words, didn’t she.

“Ready?” she asks as she makes her way to her shoes, and she hears Tobin mumble something behind her about having been ready ten minutes ago, but she ignores it with a singsong hum.

∞

It’s the perfect day.

Warm, but not hot.

Cool, but not cold. 

It’s perfect.

They walk mostly in silence, until they get to the part where the road ends and the sand starts and the ocean is eager to say hello to them.

Naturally, they both kick their shoes off, their hands holding them instead as the morning sand is cool between their toes. 

“So, just really thirsty last night?” She isn’t entirely sure that Tobin will react well to her approach, but the lightness of it just feels right, so she trusts her instinct. When she looks to her left and finds those grumpy eyebrows waiting for her, she takes it as a small win.

“Actually,” Tobin starts uncharacteristically submissive to a bit of seriousness, “it was my first time trying whiskey.” 

“Your first time trying whiskey?” Christen says it back to her in question with a laugh on her lips.

“Yup,” Tobin says like there’s nothing else to say and Christen can’t tell if she’s embarrassed or playing hard to get for her own displeasure. 

“Okay, and you did that.. why?” Christen plays along with a smile. 

“It was a gift for the holidays.”

“It’s September,” Christen states dryly.

“From last year.” Christen hums curiously at the knowledge. 

“And how did that taste?”

“Like ass,” Tobin informs her easily, “bet it tasted like ass before that, too, to be fair.” she finishes and Christen can’t really hold in her laugh, even if she tried. 

Tobin cracks a smile too, and today’s the perfect day.

They walk until they make it to the familiar lifeguard tower, and Tobin is turning around to face her as she takes slow steps away, definitely ready to part ways the rest of her walk. Before Tobin can speak though, Christen is stopping her with a call of her name.

“Last week,” Christen starts remorsefully, trying to piece the right words together, and she’s watching as Tobin is starting to understand what she’s talking about. 

“I’m sorry about what I said,” she listens to the ocean, strong and sure around them.

Tobin nods in acceptance, looking to the ocean herself, murmuring her own soft apology back. 

“I’m working late a lot this week,” Tobin starts again, eyes mostly on the sand between them, “but maybe we can meet up this weekend?” She offers kindly.

Christen nods happily at that, not really having expected the offer, feeling a little nostalgic about the whole morning. 

By the time Tobin is walking away, she remembers this was the worst part of their times together growing up, watching it end for the day. 

She finds it a little comforting that that’s one thing that hasn’t changed at all. 


	4. Trench.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> waiting for the Finding Nemo sponsor

_Inseparable._

_It’s the only way to describe them._

_If you’re looking for Christen, you’re probably looking for Tobin, and vice versa. They spend every lunch together to come, even when the year changes. They meet each other at every recess, usually finding a place to hide and ignore all the chaos around them.  
_

_Christen learns you can giggle so hard you can almost pee your pants, even at school, and she thinks Tobin learns the same. Sometimes Tobin even sneaks into her class and they wait for her teacher to spot them with a smiling sigh. Those are her favorite days, not wanting to wait until lunch to see her._

_Tobin is even allowed to come over after school sometimes, with promises that they’ll do their homework first before they play. Some of those days, it takes Tobin just a little longer to finish and they have less time to play._

_Those days secretly annoy Christen, not being able to play with her for as long as she wants before she has to go home. Then one day when she sees Tobin with big angry tears across the table as she waits, she promises God she’ll never be mad at Tobin for it again._

_Her mom fixes it anyway, much like she does for Christen when she needs help with her own math sheet. Her mom brings herself over to Tobin with a calming arm around her neck and whispers instructions to her as she rubs at the space above her heart to calm her down.  
_

_She watches on quietly as Tobin’s eyebrows become more determined and focused by the second as she nods._

_She eats dinner with them more and more, and while Christen giggles at the speed Tobin shovels food into her mouth, she almost misses her parents strange looks across the table._

_They become inseparable, and when it comes time for the summer, it’s a lot of days spent in the backseat of her mom’s car with swinging feet and Tobin’s mint chocolate ice cream stained shirts._

_The first time Tobin finally gets permission to sleepover, it feels like the best day of Christen’s life. It starts with a trip to the aquarium, her dad has a lot of good ideas, but this is her favorite idea he’s ever had._

_Tobin is absolutely beaming with excitement when she makes it to the car after her dad opens the back door for her and she’s buckled in, and Christen can’t help but feel the same way._

_“I brought a snack for the animals.” Tobin whispers to Christen as she hugs her Nemo lunch box and Christen grins at her, knowing it’s probably the extra goldfish crackers Tobin kept._

_She really doesn’t think they can feed them through the glass, though, so hopefully they figure that out._

_“Mister Christen’s dad..” Tobin trails off as her dad laughs at the name he can’t get Tobin to stop calling him, finding her eyes in the mirror with a nod._

_“Do you think there will be any sharks?”_

_“Of course,_ _there’s going to be a whole special area where you can watch them swim.“ The sentence is just barely interrupted with Tobin’s gasp, and Christen thinks she’s never felt more happy to watch something happen to someone else._

 _When they get there, it’s real life Finding Nemo. The_ _movie she’s watched a million times by now with Tobin on their living room couch, closely bundled up with sticky hands and fruit barrels.  
_

_It’s Tobin’s favorite movie, something Christen knew would become true. She just thinks it’s confusing sometimes, because if Tobin likes it so much, then why does it make her cry._

_She hopes the aquarium doesn’t make Tobin cry as they look at all the fish that look like they know Nemo and Dory. Christen is amazed by it all, There’s big glass windows with clear blue water and deep blue lights. It’s_ _quiet and dark and there’s so many animals she isn’t sure who to wave to first._

_Her dad reads them the description of each animal at the bottom of the wall as they walk slowly, and Tobin isn’t listening even a little bit. She’s definitely too busy right now with the swimming animals, so Christen whispers the information to her that she missed as she nods._

_When they do find the shark room, Tobin brings out crushed goldfish crackers from her hoodie pocket with a pout, and Christen isn’t surprised that she can’t feed them. She would just be lying if she said she didn’t think about breaking the glass for a second._

_The night ends with it being so late, she can see her dad talking to Tobin’s on the phone outside the car.  
_

_At least, she thinks that’s who it is, her dad usually makes that face when he calls Tobin’s dad. It’s usually when Christen knows Tobin can come over, and she hopes this means what she thinks it means.  
_

_It’s confirmed when he comes back in, a little grumpier than usual, but he tells them the best news she’s ever heard.  
_

_Tobin is sleeping over._

_“What happens at a sleepover?” Tobin whispers to her sheepishly later as they pull into the driveway._

_“We can watch movies and eat a lot of snacks until it gets really dark, and we can play games like we do already but for way longer, and we can look at the stars in my room, and-“_

_“You have stars in your room?” Tobin interrupts her and Christen is grinning and nodding excitedly._

_“Yeah, we can go to sleep with them, they glow all night.” Christen adds to the excitement as Tobin nods happily against the seat with a stifled yawn._

_When they make it inside, Christen suddenly feels awake as she has all day as Tobin kicks off her shoes she won’t need until tomorrow. Her mom is quick to hug them both and ask Tobin about dinner tonight as the latter nods politely to the floor in response to spaghetti._

_Christen can’t wait for that either, her favorite part of spaghetti night is watching Tobin smile with sauce on her cheeks._

_She learns a lot from Tobin as time goes by, but as of right now, learning that Tobin can move Christen’s light mattress by herself to the middle of the room is her favorite information.  
_

_It’s much easier to see all the stars this way._

_The night is spent looking at the stars in the dark of her room after being hushed by her dad for what he says is the last warning fondly. It’s when Christen has to cover Tobin’s mouth from laughing that they have the idea that they’ll somehow be quieter if they’re under the blankets.  
_

_It doesn’t make too much sense, but when the blanket is over both of their heads and it seems much quieter, she thinks it’s sort of genius._

_She can’t explain it just yet, but it just feels safe inside._

_They spend the night with a flashlight and breathe so many laughs out that the blanket gets almost too warm to sleep in, but neither of them seem to mind. When they’re both practically already asleep, she hears Tobin whisper something softly._

_“It’s not like this at home..” She trails off and Christen knows her parents say it can be rude sometimes to ask certain things, but Tobin is her best friend._

_“What’s it like?” Christen whispers back as Tobin turns onto her back and plays with the flashlight on her stomach._

_“My dad is loud and scary sometimes,” she shrugs and Christen tries to imagine what that would be like but it’s too hard for her._

_”You can share mine..” Christen offers curiously, surely her dad would love to be Tobin’s dad, too. She thinks maybe he already is sometimes anyway. Tobin’s eyebrows do that funny thing when she’s thinking, and Christen smiles until Tobin gives her a small one back.  
_

_“What about your mommy, where did she go?” Christen wonders sadly, not being able to imagine her own mom going anywhere without her for too long.  
_

_”It says heaven..” Tobin starts sadly, and Christen doesn’t like this at all. “I found a little card with a picture, that’s where it says she is,” Tobin shrugs._

_She wants to ask more things_ _, but she doesn’t like Tobin looking sad, so she nods and they wait in silence to fall asleep. She doesn’t know how to help, so she says what her mom always used to tell her when she couldn’t sleep._

_“If you close your eyes, you can be anywhere you want all the time, like space and stuff.”_

_She watches as Tobin closes her eyes but opens them again, and she looks much sleepier when she turns her head._

_“I think in here is my favorite.”_  
  


The sound of the door slamming has her elbow almost slipping off the table where she’s reading the texts she’s missed. It’s startling at first and then it’s followed by confusion as she hears paws on the wood floor getting closer and closer. 

“Nemo,” Christen slips off the kitchen stool with a smile, “what are you doing here sweet boy.” She happily accepts his excited kisses, jumping around in circles as if she doesn’t see him between her crouched legs. 

“Christen,” Her dad sounds out of breath when he makes it to the space in front of her with an orange leash in hand. She waits with raised eyebrows as he remains frozen with his arms out and a huge smile like he can't even believe what he’s about to say.

She’s half expecting the man to tell her he broke into Tobin’s place while she wasn't home and stole Nemo as he was mid water break, if she’s honest. 

“I’m dogsitting!” 

_Well, that makes a little more sense._

Christen smiles into the last of Nemo's kisses before she gets up and rubs behind his ears in thanks. She wouldn't admit it, but her heart warms at the knowledge that Tobin finally gave in to letting him come over when she’s too sad to leave him alone. She’d probably think about it more but her dad is pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolding it as he looks for a pen.

“What is that?” 

“Nemo’s schedule.”

Christen freezes at that.

“His _schedule_?” Christen repeats back to confirm. She isn’t sure if she’s more surprised that Tobin actually wrote the words eat, sleep, pee on a piece of paper or that her dad is actually taking it seriously.

“Yeah, just in case,” he specifies as he reads it over, paying her no mind, and she assumes those words were said to him exactly like that when he was handed it.

Right, just in case. 

∞

She expects to fall in love with him, of course, he’s the perfect dog, really, it’s just natural. He's got big tan ears that stick out, fluffy and begging to be pet, and a mix of tan and dark fur on him with an orange bandana that’s apparently stuck like glue. 

He’s perfect, she gets it.

It eventually brings her to the kitchen floor, letting him lay between her spread legs as she rubs his belly and has a small glass of wine.

Her dads gone to bed by now, so she figures she should get her turn. She whispers to him like he understands, about anything really, how good he is, if he likes her home, if he misses Tobin.

She expects to love him, but she doesn’t expect to be so _busy_ loving him that hours have gone by. She ends up on the couch with him eventually, drifting off to sleep with a warm and protective companion proves to be a pretty easy thing to do apparently.

She’s in the corner of the couch with her legs open for Nemo when she hears the front door open. 

She isn’t sure why, but somewhere along the chaos she forgot to think about the fact that Tobin would eventually have to pick him up. Her eyes are still hooded, in a half asleep state, almost like she’s dreaming the whole thing. 

The next time she tries to open her eyes, Tobin is sitting in the spot next to her, Nemo’s stomach and back legs resting in Christen’s lap, but his head eagerly licking at Tobin’s face with soft cries. 

It’s because of her dream state, she’s sure, but for a second, it almost seems like Tobin is coming home after a long day at work to greet them, like it happens every day. She doesn’t mean it, she really doesn’t, but it’s such a comforting thought that she pulls the source of warmth closer, or maybe she pulls herself closer to the warmth, she’s not sure. 

She just knows she’s warm. 

She mumbles a greeting, or at least she tries. 

She mostly just smells pizza, if she’s honest. 

“Chris,” Tobin’s soft whisper comes above her head, so soft she barely hears it, almost like she didn’t even want her to. 

But she did, because it’s so close, just above-

 _Oh_.

“Sorry,” she pulls back her head from leaning deeply into Tobin’s lap, embarrassed and awake, somehow having pushed Nemo to the outside of them. 

_What is she, a dog?_

It’s embarrassing enough as is, but she really knocks it home when she realizes her left hand is still stuck like glue resting on Tobin’s stomach. 

“Sorry,” she almost yelps like she was burned and it’s more embarrassing probably, but she hides her face in her hands, just for a second before she falls to the cushion behind her, crawling away. 

It could be in her head, but when she looks at Nemo, he looks a little on edge that she’s going to do it again as he lays his head back in Tobin’s lap. 

Figures, his attitude only comes out when it comes to ownership of a certain pizza smelling human. She grimaces to herself when she catches herself thinking she gets the feeling.

When Tobin clears her throat and brings her back down to reality, she finally is able to take her in. She’s wearing a dark t-shirt with white letters and flour stains to match, her hair up and messy, and she looks soft

She looks _really_ soft. 

Just like she looked when they were sixteen and Tobin was coming over after soccer practice, sleepy and spent. Something she’d see less and less of as time would go on.

Christen can’t explain the unsettling feeling of it all, but she feels like she’s in a deeper hole than she was before she came back home. She immediately feels the familiar red hot anger starting at the back of her neck like lava, slowly making its way down her spine. 

“Was he good?” Tobin asks lazily, obliviously rubbing behind his ears, Nemo bringing his snout further into her stomach in response. 

“You know he was,” Christen pointedly states, not trying to sound nearly as irritated as she did. Tobin nods softly, not meeting her eyes. They sit in silence for a moment, and it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not comfortable either.

She feels hot, too hot, and she isn’t sure when the last time she felt that was, or maybe she’s exactly sure. She moves off the couch to grab the remote to shut the TV off and make her way to bed, and Tobin clearly gets the message as she stands herself. 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” she hears behind her as she fixes the couch cushions for the night, she hums affirmatively because yeah, tomorrow is Saturday. She folds the throw blanket nicely as she yawns and hears the sound of paws getting closer to her. 

Nemo is looking up at her obedient and patient, waiting for her to bring herself lower for him, and she does just that, bringing him into a hug as she scratches his fur. 

Even her newfound bad mood can’t stand a chance against a good boy. 

“Thank you sweet boy,” she whispers to him quietly, hoping he understands what she’s really thanking him for. 

Then again, he _is_ just a dog. 

She gives him a few last scratches goodnight, and she’s up and ready for bed before she hears her again.

“Where did you want to meet tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow?” She asks in genuine curiosity.

“Yeah, we- did you still want to hangout?” Tobin wonders as she plays with the orange leash in her hands. 

_Oh._

_Tomorrow is Saturday._

“Gosh, sorry, I totally forgot about that,” _she didn’t_ “I have a thing I’m doing, like for dad, but I’ll keep in touch, yeah?” 

_She won’t._

Tobin nods her understanding before her eyes meet the floor and then are quickly moving to the tired dog waiting for them to finish with a small whimper. Christen is retreating a few steps away as she confirms Tobin will lock the door behind her, and she pretends not to hear the sadness in the small answer she gets as she starts down the hall. 

The image of two sad puppies leaving her house don’t sit well with her, and it only stirs more anger as she changes her regular route to the guest room to the door to the garage. 

_She knows it’s in here somewhere._

When she finds the small plastic scraper on one of the paint cans in the corner, she’s heading upstairs with the stepladder and a mission in mind.

_  
“Chris!”_

_“Christen, stop!”_

_The feeling of arms coming around her to stop her own is what gets her out of the red rage in the end. Her breathing is erratic, and her body is desperately trying to get in the cool breath she needs as she breathes out the fire she feels._

_It takes a few moments, but eventually she’s looking around, grasping what she’s just done. Everything is thrown off of their bathroom counter, the mirror is open and empty, the sink is running and the bathtub is full of ice, and it all comes back to her like lightning._

_She feels the chill of the ice surrounding her body now, goosebumps on every inch of her skin under her clothes. She’s dripping like a dog out of a bath, and she meets Alex’s blue eyes in the mirror eventually, and she feels mortified._

_Alex, of course, being the friend sent from God himself, doesn’t let her feel that way long as she continues to hold onto her, calming her down._

_She barely knows what happened, just desperately trying to make it stop burning. She wonders if Tobin could feel how angry she is from this far away, and mostly hopes she does.  
_

_In this moment she doesn’t think therapy will help her past this, but she promises to try anyway.  
  
  
_She doesn’t mean to wake him up. 

He’s a gentle and quiet man, he likes his sleep, he’s simple, but she wakes him up anyway. She thought she was being quiet, she’s not banging or screaming, she’s just scraping. 

Maybe just a little aggressive, but she learned that that’s okay. She just needs to distract herself. 

The ceiling is already half rid of stars that have fallen carelessly to the floor of her room, and she’s sweating with determination because she’s so close to being done. She knows he’s standing there, she felt his presence before she even met his eyes over her shoulder if she’s honest, and neither of them say anything as she continues to work. 

She can feel all of his words anyway. _I’m worried about you, will_ _you get past this,_ _I wish your mom was here._

All things that would anger her further, she thinks. 

Instead, he silently collects the fallen stars on the floor as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. Eventually, when she takes another break as her arms tiredly lay limp on the handle of the ladder, he helps her down and continues where she left off.

He’s much quicker and smarter about it, only needing two scrapes at most to get a star down, and when they’re all down, she finally cries. 

And when they’re sitting tiredly on her bed together, her head on his shoulder, he says something he’s never admitted before. 

“I wish I knew what to do,” he softly says into her hair, “I’ve never known anybody that’s dealt with it.. there’s some books about it now but..” he trails off and she can hear the sadness in his voice. 

“But your soulmate is always supposed to want you back,” comes her own painful whisper as she closes her eyes and remembers everything she had ever been taught. 

She falls asleep in her childhood bed, blanket over her head, with the heat of the imprint of a fingertip forever etched behind her left ear. 


	5. Drown.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a small cameo by toaster strudel frosting packets with a side of stress.

_When they make it to high school, they drift apart, naturally._

_Christen isn’t worried about it really, she just has a feeling Tobin will always be her best friend, she has been since they were tiny. Her parents say it’s normal, they’re teenagers now, it won’t change anything.  
_

_They had spent basically their whole lives entwined at every point._

_Tobin has an empty space at their door for her shoes, her parents buy her favorite snacks that wait for her and her only in their cabinet._ _Tobin has her own spot in the living room when they watch saved by the bell in the morning or have family movie night. Tobin hits Tyler’s feet off of the coffee table after school when she walks in. She teases Channing about her boyfriends every Thanksgiving, and she has inside jokes with her mom that Christen doesn’t bother trying to understand._

_Tobin is family, and that’s that._

_It’s just, they don’t have any classes together, and Tobin joins the soccer team while Christen finds clubs she likes. Then there’s that one thing, the part where they meet other friends, of course._

_Christen finds a spot that was missing her very puzzle piece in her friend group, she perfectly fits and they’re good to her._

_Tobin finds a small group of something she must feel the same about, even though Christen can’t possibly comprehend why. Tobin’s new friends are complex, is the best way Christen can describe it in her head. They’re into riskier things, they’re a little less social than Christen is used to._

_Tobin has always been quieter, she’s always had a broody and pouty thing, and Christen’s always been fond of it._

_So maybe at a quick glance, Tobin’s friends make sense to other people, maybe she looks like she fits, but Christen knows something nobody else does._

_Tobin doesn’t fit there at all._

_She realizes as much when Tobin misses more school than she used to, and her temper is quicker to flare to match._

_Tobin used to spend some nights with a red nose from crying under their blanket, talking about the things that hurt. Christen doesn’t think she’ll ever see that again.  
_

_Tobin always had a temper different than most, but it was different now, and maybe not unusual. Not with an angry drunk of a father._

_Christen doesn’t like to think about that, though._

_She tries to talk to her about it anyway, about her dad, about missing school, about her friends, but she gets the angriest she’s ever seen. It’s always followed by them going under the blanket eventually, even if it’s a few days later, and Christen apologizing for ever asking._

_Christen realizes quickly as they grow that Tobin had a different outlook on regular things, from family to religion, all the way to soulmates.  
_

_Tobin doesn’t care much about the whole soulmate thing, Christen learns as much when she slowly starts bringing it up more and Tobin shrugs like she could do without it.  
_

_None of it bothers her, not really, except the last part. The soulmates part. She pretends she never heard the soulmates part.  
_

_When Tobin turns fifteen, Christen is two weeks behind her as always, but they spend their birthday together at home for the first time, a full party and everything._

_A cake for each of them, Christen’s regular vanilla with sprinkles and a chocolate peanut butter for Tobin, something her parents know better than anyone that she’d love._

_Tobin doesn’t tell them, not in words, but through tears rolling down her soft red cheeks as she blows out her candles for the first time.  
_

_It’s Tobin’s first birthday cake._

_Red hot anger bubbles inside of Christen, how could Tobin’s dad have never gotten her a birthday cake before. She won’t ask about it though, not when nights like this with Tobin come around less than ever before, she won’t spend it making her mad._

_When Christen finds her mother’s eyes over Tobin’s head, she knows they wish the same thing,_ _that they had known sooner._

_Why didn’t they do this sooner._

_She remembers that night forever, and not just for the cake._

_It’s the first night Tobin quietly grabs her hand in the dark of her room as they laugh about their weeks at school, Tobin tells her about the prank her and her friend Sonnett pull on their teacher._ _Christen laughs so hard she almost pees.  
_

_She falls asleep with her hand interlocked protectively with Tobin’s already asleep one on her stomach with the knowledge that the stars above them watch down on all of their nights like this._

_They drift further when junior year comes, Tobin becoming more invested in soccer than anything else, really. The school gives her a tutor, making sure she’ll be able to bring her grades up to keep playing, and Christen likes the idea of it, until she hears about said tutor._

_She’s pretty, apparently, that’s what her eyes tell her anyway, and maybe she overhears one of Tobin’s friends tease her about it on the phone one day._

_She knows Tobin’s soul with her very own, and she knows Tobin is chaotic and messy, she’s intense glares and stubborn opinions, but she’s also soft, mushy, gentle and warm._

_Tobin is perfect to her, and she’s always known it to be true, and maybe she’s dumb for it, but she forgot that other people have a right to know Tobin like that, too._

_It’s the first time she realizes it._

_It’s not hard to see, girls quietly fawn over Tobin sometimes, something about the mysteriousness of her and the jaw she slowly grows into, Christen is sure.  
_

_Luckily, Tobin doesn’t seem interested in anyone in general, but it_ _still ignites something deep inside of Christen that she had never thought about until then._

_She brings up soulmates again in her own way when they’re seventeen and graduation isn’t just a distant dream._

_“Do you think you’ve met yours?” She asks her as they sit with their backs against the lifeguard tower overlooking the golden sky above the water. They have pizza, their usual order, half hawaiian for Christen and half plain for Tobin._

_Tobin doesn't answer her for a moment, and Christen lightly hits her ankle._ _Tobin shrugs, not very interested if she has or hasn’t, and it frustrates Christen more than it ever has, because she thinks about it all the time, how can you not._

_“I think I have.”_

_“Yeah?” Tobin responds to her quiet confession, her eyes moving from the water to Christen’s own gentle and open green ones, but Tobin’s are just a tad closed off, and she wishes she had only known that then._

_“I think yours is Jake,” Tobin lets her know, almost as if she knows it herself._

_Jake is kind enough, he’s been both of their friends at one point, Tobin opting out of the friendship pretty fast, not really interested in the same things, she supposes._

_“You do?”_

_“Yeah, he’s loaded, too,” Tobin continues with a grin as Christen wonders why that would have anything to do with it, “big wedding and all that.”_

_She guesses Tobin thinks that was meant to clear it up or something, so she_ _hums like it did._

_It didn’t, though._

_“I can’t wait for my birthday,” Christen whispers and meets Tobin’s smiling eyes._

_“We just had one,” she whispers back with a fake scowl, eyes full of mirth. And yeah, they did just have their birthdays the summer before senior year, the fireworks of July help her remember._

_But this next one is different, she’ll be officially graduated and getting ready for college._

_There’s also this small thing, this small thing she thinks about every second of every day the last few years, this small thing that heats up her fingertips just thinking about it._

_Eighteen is different._

_Eighteen means her touch will hold something she’s dreamt about forever.  
_

_Eighteen means she’ll know if Tobin could be hers._

_She finds Tobin’s eyes again from where they’re both leaning against the wood, and she tries to communicate something she doesn’t even quite understand fully herself yet._

_One more year._

_One more year until us._

_She just wishes Tobin looked like she understood, even a little bit._

  
After the rough night she had, It’s almost identical to her first two weeks away at college.

It’s a small setback. If anything, the stars that used to be on her ceiling get the worst of it. She sleeps a little too much, and she’s too tired to reach out to anybody, and she knows she has to do something about it now.

It was just a bad night. 

She was going to do something about it anyway, but she’d be lying if she said catching her father on a three way call with her sisters didn’t really motivate her. He must have been really worried if he did the very thing he said he would pay to not deal with. 

She does herself a favor and calls Alex, and Alex calls Kelley, and Kelley calls her, and then she’s really never got a moment to think outside of the group chat she’s thrown in. 

It’s week three when she finally feels good and the mid October air is rewarding when she keeps the patio doors open most of the day. 

She reads, and she talks, and she laughs. 

_She’ll be okay._

Sometimes, she just has to remind herself of the very fact.

She’s shutting her car door with her hip as she carries the grocery bags with both hands when she finds Tobin sitting at the steps of her front door. 

It’s surprising to see her, but also maybe it’s really not, she’s not sure. Her hair is damp with ocean care, a backwards hat thrown on carelessly and golden legs that look well loved by the sun.

“Hey,” Tobin stands slowly, patting off the back of her shorts and soon bringing her hands to grab onto the inside of her shirt, a habit when she can’t find any pockets around.

“Hey,” Christen parrots back with a soft smile. She’s halfway to the door when Tobin meets her and offers her hands to take the bags, and Christen is about to wave her off, but Tobin’s fingers are just barely touching hers. She really doesn’t feel like she has a choice to make anymore.

_They’re just groceries._

Tobin follows behind her to the kitchen after Christen lets her in, and when they make it to the kitchen island, Tobin is already starting to unpack the few things for her as Christen starts to put them away. 

“Yuck,” Tobin hands her the jar of mayonnaise and Christen grins as she accepts it, mostly understanding the disdain but her dad won’t eat a sandwich without it. 

She naturally wonders why Tobin is here, she wonders if she thought about her on the walk back from the beach and turned around or if it was the plan to come by the whole time.

She wonders why Tobin looks so perfectly placed at home as she hops up to sit on the kitchen counter like she always has. She wonders, of course, but she’s also tired of wondering. She’s tired of thinking, actually. 

_She’s just tired._

She thinks Tobin knows that, too, if her lack of questions over the last few weeks of silence is anything to go by. 

Tobin let’s everything be, and she appreciates her for it. 

“So,” Tobin starts as she grabs the jar of peanut m&m’s off the counter. Christen leans back into her own counter behind her, arms crossed and happy to hear the voice she hasn’t heard in weeks. 

“Is your dad busy tonight?” Tobin asks with her mouth full of candy, and yet, it’s the least confusing part of the sentence. 

“My dad?”

“Yup,” she confirms with another handful.

“Actually, yeah, he’s- it’s Tuesday so- sorry, are you seriously asking me if you can hangout with my dad?” 

“I’m not asking you for permission.”

“Right, I know, but it’s just weir-“ 

“Is he busy?”

“He still golfs every Tuesday, he won’t be home until late.”

“Bummer,” Tobin sighs, looking a little too dramatic for Christen’s taste. She feels a little baited, this all seeming like a bit of a trap if she knows Tobin well enough still, but she’s curious, so she’ll bite.

“Maybe I can call him to come home early if you-“

“It’s Nemo’s birthday,” Tobin shares sadly like his entire birthday will be ruined now, “I got some steaks for us and he’s got his special cupcake to eat but I don’t know.” Tobin shrugs sadly as she puts the lid back on the jar. 

“He was born in October?” Christen asks with a quirk to her eyebrow.

“It’s when I found him,” Tobin shrugs again, and the thing is, Christen can’t say it out loud, but she _knows_ Tobin is lying. 

She just isn’t sure why. 

“So..” Christen slowly gathers herself as she straightens her back, “it’s his birthday.”

“Yup.”

“And.. you wanted my dad to come.”

“Yup.” Tobin pops the p at the end of the word and Christen steps forward to the island, resting her elbows on it with her chin in her hands as she finds Tobin’s eyes. 

Eyes that are busy moving obliviously around the house and not meeting her own. 

Too obliviously. 

She thinks maybe she’s got this figured out finally as she offers her own company, her chest filling with hope.

“I can come.” 

“You can?”

“If you- if Nemo wants,” she swiftly corrects herself with a grin quickly turned into a serious pout. Tobin’s catches on, of course, and her body language is quickly changing into defensive. 

“You think I’m making his birthday up?”

“Me? No.” Christen shakes her head seriously. 

Seriously enough that she hopes it’s convincing, at least. Tobin’s eyebrows do a couple different things, and she almost feels like she’s being interrogated, but she’s happy to find out that she’s apparently passed as Tobin hops off the counter. 

“Okay, well, I guess if you want to come over to see him that bad, you can.” Tobin shrugs as she starts her walk out of the kitchen.

Christen feels like she was just played like a fiddle, so she stays frozen in her spot as she watches Tobin leave. 

“He’ll be ready at 6!” Tobin yells out before she hears the front door open and close, and she can’t help but smile. 

  
∞

_Hypothetically_ , she should double check the address in her texts, but the small blue house with the light on in the corner of the street is too Tobin to deny. 

She doesn’t remember ever passing this house growing up, she isn’t sure who lived there before or if anyone will ever live there again, but in her mind, this is Tobin’s no matter what. 

It’s small, very small, there’s no driveway but there’s a narrow cobblestone path to the back where she sees a big wooden fence, definitely not old.

There’s a surfboard sneaking out above it, and there’s a light on illuminating it all in the sleepy blue of the evening. 

When she knocks on the wood of the door, as orange as wood can be without it actually being painted, she hears Nemo’s excited paws at the bottom of the door almost instantly. 

_Maybe he did ask for birthday guests._

When Tobin opens the door, Nemo is practically howling in I missed yous as he claws at her, uncharacteristically impatient.

She hears Tobin’s soft commands of down and watches as he listens with a cry. In no time at all though, Christen is quick to kneel as she scratches at his fur and whispers her greeting. 

_He is apparently the birthday boy._

When she brings herself back up to human size, she finally takes Tobin in. Ripped jeans and a t-shirt, nothing unusual, well, besides the cheeky grin plastered on her face.

It’s sort of one of those ‘nothing to see here’ smiles she’s seen in movies, and she gives her a questioning eyebrow, but Tobin is already opening the door wider to invite her in. 

The first thing she notices when she walks in is the same thing she noticed outside, this place is definitely Tobin’s.

It’s small and warm, there’s a small place for keys and a jacket in the entrance, and the floor plan is basically all one room. There’s a surfboard laying on the area above the couch against the wall. The walls are a soft gray and the floors are all the same beaten up dark oak.

The kitchen is small, really small, but it looks meticulously done by careful hands with a lot of time. 

“It’s not much,” Tobin shrugs as she shuts the door behind them, Nemo happily continuing without them, probably already over it all, a tad anti social after greetings, just like his human. 

“It’s perfect,” Christen whispers as she continues to look around, she doesn’t mean it really, it just kind of slips out without her permission, low and soft. She can’t deny it, it’s Tobin’s perfect home, exactly where she’d put her if she had the power growing up.

She’s about to ask her if she hired someone to do all of the work in the house, before she finally notices the elephant in the room. 

“Oh, wow,” Christen tries to stifle her laugh into her hand, she really does, it’s just, who knew steak could turn _that_ black.

When she meets Tobin’s eyes to her left, she’s back to that movie smile with an innocent flutter of her eyelashes and her hands behind her back with a small shrug. 

“How do you feel about hot pockets?” 

∞

It’s not a good idea, not after the last few weeks she’s had, not after how fragile she’s felt, but here she is.

It’s the last gulp of her third glass of wine, her head comfortably resting on the wood of the kitchen cabinet on the floor, her cheeks begging her to stop laughing as a tear makes its way down.

It’s definitely past midnight now, the last half of her pizza hot pocket long forgotten on the counter. It’s also right next to the empty package of frosting from the toaster strudel that was a fitting dessert according to her host. 

They made their way down to the kitchen floor eventually, sitting across each other with a wine bottle and a beer, Tobin’s right leg hitting Christen’s when she’s laughing too hard to notice.

Nemo is absolutely spent after his day of attention, unfortunately even having to wear a birthday hat for a picture in front of his cupcake by an excited Tobin. He’s quietly out like a light in his dog bed by the fireplace now, happily snoring. 

She didn’t notice that, of course, until she had seen Tobin kneel down to give him goodnight kisses and offer him his own blanket.

It’s kind of silly, she knows, and maybe she’d be more willing to make fun of it if the sight didn’t give her a warm feeling in her belly. 

She wonders if Nemo had ever imagined that he’d be this lucky when he was wandering down this street that summer. 

“God, so you do remember my middle school bangs,” Christen says into her hands, leaning further into Tobin’s leg as the latter hums into her beer before she puts it down with a watery laugh. 

“I try to forget,” Tobin gives her a carefully constructed grimace and Christen scolds her with a hit to her ankle. “I’m kidding,” Tobin corrects with her hands in surrender, “I was totally into it, like, the whole Dora thing you had going.”

Christen is almost too offended to even speak before she’s moving quickly to defend herself. 

“As if I’m going to take fashion advice from the girl who wore the same bright orange high tops for three years.” 

“That was about fashion, Christen,” Tobin states plainly.

“Fashion for who, Oompa Loompas?” 

“You’re very close to actually being uninvited to Nemo’s next birthday party,” Tobin warns her. She’s biting her lip as she pours just a drop more of wine in her glass, just for a few last sips for the night. 

“I’m glad you like the wine,” Tobin lets her know softly, “It would have just sat there forever without you.” 

“Try it,” Christen whispers back with encouraging eyes, “way better than your beer.” 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah,” Christen offers her wine glass, “here, try.” 

Tobin looks at her at first like she’d never even think about it, but it’s quickly replaced with a thoughtful look and her beer bottle being put down beside her as she slides across the floor to her. 

She feels it, the usual feeling she feels around Tobin when they’re around each other for long enough.

Tobin is someone who acts with purpose, someone who never was into small talk or half assing something she wouldn’t be good at, she’d rather just not do it. 

She pretends to ignore that last part of her thought. 

Tobin’s purposeful and complicated, and she may be hard to read for some people, but for Christen, she knows the familiar feeling of a challenge bubbling up in Tobin’s eyes when she sees it. 

It brings her to almost regret offering her wine.

 _Almost_. 

Tobin crawls over and fits snug into her space, easily, still across from her, but not without the feeling of the air between them becoming hot. Tobin keeps herself close even after accepting the glass, her legs up, her knees against the cabinet where Christen’s back is. Her right ankle against the too hot skin of her side where Christen’s shirt has rode up. 

Christen naturally leans away as much as she can into the cabinet to breathe something that isn’t Tobin’s exhales, but Tobin doesn’t move at all. Not any closer, not any further. 

She just stays put as she brings the wine glass to her lips, eyes glued to Christen’s own, even as she swallows. 

“It’s not bad,” Tobin shrugs, offering back the wine glass that Christen accepts with their fingers brushing. It could be her imagination, but she swears she sees sizzling determination in sparkling hot cinnamon eyes. 

She just doesn’t know what it’s for.

“So,” Tobin brings her arms to rest on her open knees, her fingers distractedly feeling the wood of the cabinet in front of her.

Christen wouldn’t know that of course if she hadn’t been looking where her head is resting above them, but here she is. 

“Where to in December?” Tobin softly questions, and Christen meets her eyes, and she can only feel one thing when she struggles to move her eyes from Tobin’s soft and slow fingers against the wood.

 _Caught_. 

She doesn’t care.

She isn’t sure where this conversation will lead, but at this point there’s really nothing to lose, she’s too tired to play games, and maybe a little wine drunk, too. 

“London,” she answers genuinely in a whisper, the back of her head still comfortable against the counter. It’s faint, but she can just barely feel the vibration of Tobin’s movements with her fingers. 

“London,” Tobin parrots back curiously, her fingers just barely stopping their motions for a second before they continue again. Christen nods softly in her wine daze, her eyes feeling hooded. 

“It gets cold there, no?” Tobin wonders.

“And rainy.”

“And rainy.” Tobin parrots again, softly nodding, as if she’s just taking it all in, but not for too long as she probes further.

“Is someone there?” 

She understands now that this was where it was meant to go the whole time, but in her sleepy wine state, she’s not mad about it. She _did_ tell her she met someone already. Tobin can know about it, if she wants. There’s no real reason why she shouldn’t. Christen nods with a hum, the only sound around them being the crickets outside of the open living room windows.

Tobin hums back at her nod, resting her left cheek on the arm resting on her knee, eyes still on Christen’s. 

“What are they like?” 

She wonders how deep this will go, but gives her the benefit of the doubt, just human curiosity probably. 

“He’s..” Christen starts as she moves her eyes away to look at the ceiling, trying to find a good word for the person who’s been nothing but kind and understanding with her.

It’s complicated, yeah, but Tobin doesn’t need to know that, she doesn’t need to know that at all.

“Patient,” she goes with, because he is. Tobin raises her eyebrows at this, and Christen would like to believe it’s not judgemental. 

“Patient,” Tobin parrots again, definitely more monotone than the others.

“Yes.”

“And he’s good to you?” Tobin questions after a moment. Christen meets her eyes, raw and searching, trying her best to do a deep dive of some sort, as if that were possible. He is good to her, he’s been a good friend, Tobin has nothing to be questioning about here. 

“He’s very good to me.” Christen responds genuinely. 

Tobin hums at that again, clicking her tongue and taking in a breath before she meets her eyes again and grins. 

Christen knows this look, she knows it well, and this is going to be something she should brace for. 

“And in bed?” 

Christen’s stomach drops instantaneously.

There’s a prickling of tears feeling raw and desperate in the back of her throat, and it’s a natural reaction, because how dare she ask that. 

Christen blows out a sarcastic laugh before she’s moving to get up in a haste and Tobin at least has the decency to look guilty at her inappropriate interrogation. 

Technically, she may have been in a wine daze, sure, but she’s as sober as she’s ever been with anger when she finds her jacket by the door. 

“Christen, hold on.”

“Chris- Christen, just wait up, let me-“

“Don’t touch me.” 

“Ok.” Tobin retracts her hand from Christen’s elbow as quickly as it came, “I’m sorry.” 

“Let me take you home, you-“

“I know where I live.”

“Yes I understand, but this is just- Christen I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t mean it?” Christen seethes over her shoulder, briskly walking towards the place where the sand will meet her feet and the ocean will cool her down. 

“I don’t know why I asked that, I didn’t- it just came out, I didn’t even like- think about it or whatever-“

“You never think!” Christen brings her hands angrily into her jacket pocket as she listens for the beginnings of the sound of the waves.

“Okay, ouch,” Tobin catches up into the corner of her eye and Christen exhales a grunt before Tobin is in front of her, walking backwards.

“Right, that was my bad, really, it was wrong and I apologize,” Tobin rationalizes almost as a child pretending to be an adult and Christen has never been so close to tripping someone in her life, so she stops in her tracks instead.

“I didn’t need this tonight,” Christen starts with angry tears welling up behind her eyes threatening to escape. 

“I’ve had- it has been such a hard time, I didn’t need this tonight,” she brings her palms to her eyes to swipe whatever gathered there. “We just shouldn’t talk,” she admits what she’s been thinking for three weeks, “like ever.”

It hurts to say it out loud, but it hurts for her own ears to hear it, too.

_She’s tired of fighting._

What’s a little burning as long as she’s far, far away.

_Just give up._

“That’s what I tried to give you!” Tobin squeaks, almost like she’s begging Christen to see the big favor she’s done for her or something. “You wouldn’t let it be, you never let me be, I tried to tell you it would be like this, I’m not meant for it.” 

“Meant for what!” Christen spits in a rage, “I didn’t ask you to do anything but give me answers and let me move on!” 

“You haven’t asked any questions!”

“Here’s one, why are you such a fucking asshole!” Christen continues her earlier mission, leaving Tobin behind in the street as she heads for the sand. She hears Tobin behind her still, a loud exhale giving her away, but she doesn’t give her the decency of looking. 

_She shouldn’t be here._

_Tobin won’t give her what she needs._

_She needs to let go on her own._

Something clicks, and it feels different than ever before. 

She feels done, she feels done with it all, once and for all. 

The heat at the back of her neck was bearable, at least she thought it was, maybe distracted by everything else, but the closer she gets to the ocean, the more unbearable it becomes. 

Her hand eventually settles behind her head, and she tries to breath out the fire she feels through her body, but it’s only getting worse. It’s quickly becoming the scariest experience of her life as she thinks she may just explode as tears pour out of her eyes.

_She lifts,_

_She burns_

_She’s burning-_

_It’s the highest she’s ever lifted it,_

_She’s so close, she’s so close_

_She’s so-_

“The water,” Tobin’s voice is loud and clear where it’s coming closer behind her, and Christen is waving her off, desperately trying to take in breaths. 

“Chris, go in the water!” 

“Fuck you! You go in the water!” Christen snaps with her eyelids tightly shut and her palms digging into her eyes and before she can even open them, she’s being lifted off her feet, dangling behind Tobin. 

“What are you doing!” Christen grabs onto the back of Tobin’s shirt and this is bullshit. 

“Put me down!” 

“That’s what I’m doing!” Tobin screams over the crashes of the waves as she brings them further into the ocean and Christen doesn’t even-

Her head is entirely underwater and all she tastes is salt.

This is _bullshit_. 

The water is ice cold in the dark of the night and the sound of the waves come in and out as her head bobs up and down. Thankfully, she’s quickly being centered by strong arms as she gasps for air and tries to stand on the sand beneath her feet. 

The waves are thrashing around them and they’re swaying with every pull, almost losing their balance with each one, and without Tobin, she’d definitely be pulled in and swallowed forever.

Tobin’s grip is almost painful on her arms from behind her and she’s being pushed forward against the tide pulling them in.

When they make it to where they can stand on their own on the shore, Christen is beyond ready to thrash and scream about how annoying Tobin is.

Before she can though, Tobin is already skipping a step. 

She feels her hands on her face before anything else, and she hasn’t had her this close in so long, she wants to savor it, but she can’t.

She can’t, because as soon as Tobin’s forehead is on her own, her eyes close at the feeling of it, and she’s useless for anything else.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Tobin whispers urgently, warm breath hitting her lips, “I’m so sorry.” Christen nods against her, because what else is she going to do, really. 

She wonders if Tobin felt the burning trying to escape her body, too.

Maybe It’s not fair that this is all it takes for every ounce of anger to leave her body, but maybe she doesn’t care. It’s the first time in years she’s been wrapped fully around the warmth Tobin’s body offers, and it’s soft, it’s so soft. 

How can she care about anything else when Tobin is clinging to her like she can’t lose her yet, even if it’s not true.


	6. Sail Away.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: describing loss/character death for this one.
> 
> The beginning of this chapter has the flashback of the night C lost her mom, if you don’t want to miss the story but want to miss that part read the flashback until it says.. “And then it happens.” Then the story will go back to where we left off where the italics end.

_It all starts to fall apart that last month of the summer before senior year._

_She almost wishes she could be one of those people that can look back and shrug as they say they don’t even really know what happened. People just drift apart, they age, they grow, they find other interests, other people._

_Tobin didn’t just drift away from her naturally this time._

_In fact, it feels a whole lot like Tobin got into a speed boat and bolted the first week into their senior year._

_Yeah, she guesses it could be partly because the summers over, there’s less time to hangout freely, less sleeping over and more quickly sent texts after practice or before dinner. It’s just, they’ve done this already. They’ve already figured this out, they’ve figured this balance out._

_This was different, and Christen knows exactly why._ _Christen spends the entire month of August doing what she’s never dared to do before._

_It’s just, after that talk on the beach that night, how can Tobin be so casual about something so big and happening so soon in their lives.  
_

_How can you not care about your soulmate?_

_So in short, she pushes._

_In long, she spends every conversation they have bringing it up. She wonders out loud about the feeling of being touched for the first time by her soulmate. She wonders if it’s a soft sting or a big bolt when the first touch is burned into her skin from the fingertips.  
_

_She wonders in front of her parents, maybe purposely because Tobin’s around, and they tell their story to her for the hundredth time._

_Her parents were one of the lucky ones. Most people had their soulmarks on their wrists or hands from shaking their soulmates hands when they had met. Some even on their arms if they had bumped into each other and went to apologize, their entire lives changing.  
_

_Her parents didn’t meet on accident at all, they fell in love long before they knew, something she hopes she can see happen for herself. Her mother was behind her father by a month when he had turned eighteen, but she says she wasn’t worried one bit, she knew it was her._

_Its rare, knowing before you find them through an accidental touch somewhere in the world. Being able to choose where the fingerprint would be burned into forever was a chance of a lifetime._

_She pretends not to, but she thinks she notices Tobin’s interest pique just a bit when her dad show’s Tobin the finger print by his heart for the first time while her mom smiles madly in the corner with her own._

_She spends phone calls and nights when Tobin’s with her explaining how badly she can’t wait, how excited she is to spend days in love and nights so thankful. Tobin starts to shy away, slowly, but much too fast._   
  
_She knows now that maybe she should have stopped, but then, it gives her even more of a green light as she panics, feeling her slip away._

_“I want to have that,” Christen whispers into Tobin’s hoodie as she lay in her lap on the couch after a rare sleepy movie night. Tobin’s got her phone out above Christen’s head, playing some stupid bird game. It’s the first time in a while everything feels a little bit back to normal, Tobin not shying away from her touch, their conversation not feeling forced.  
_

_She has pulled back a bit, so maybe_ _she shouldn’t push her luck, but she just wants Tobin to know._

_“What?” Tobin asks softly, a little distracted, but she knows she’s listening, she always does._

_“What my parents have,” she admits, her hands playing with one of the belt loops of Tobin’s jeans. She doesn’t get a response for a while, the silence overtaking them, and Christen might just fall asleep, but she thanks God she didn’t, because she would have missed it._

_“You will, I promise.” Tobin whispers._

_Then, it brought her butterflies and a quiet grin, but when she thinks about it now, she thinks Tobin never meant what she thought she did that night all along._

_She learns quickly that it’s going to be one of the last times she’ll ever have a moment like that with her best friend.  
_

_She spends the first part of senior year in a bittersweet reality, she has a lot of firsts, the first time she tries alcohol, the first time she gets yelled at for forgetting to make the call home one weekend._

_Her grades remain the same though, of course. She does all her assignments on time, all of her college things are handed in, her parents are proud, her future is good, and she celebrates it often._

_What else is she going to do, really._

_Her phone remains vacant of the one number she wants to show up most._

_Her parents notice, naturally. Tobin was the quietest voice in the home most of the time, but the biggest presence for all of them. She doesn’t talk about it, though. Not with honesty anyway, duping it down to it being senior year, but them still being in contact._

_They’re not, though, are they.  
_

_She can see it in her parents eyes, they miss Tobin, but it doesn’t warm Christen’s heart, it makes her angry. After everything they’ve been through, Tobin is willing to just give up on them._

_She finds herself having random bursts of anger, quickly shaking her head at intrusive thoughts and memories. She tells herself if Tobin doesn’t want to be here after everything they’ve had, then she doesn’t want her here.  
_

_She stops trying to text, she stops her once a week call, she stops inviting her, and she stops showing up to places Tobin just might be._

_She gives up._

_She worries about herself, and her own life, her own future._

_What else does she have left?_

_And then it happens._

_It happens on a Friday night, she parks in the driveway before midnight, the only thing her parents ask of her, and it’s all very normal, except it’s not normal at all._

_She takes the first step into her house, and something feels terribly wrong. She finds her sisters in the living room, tears streaming down their faces, and crying is an understatement as Tyler slowly gathers her into her arms.  
_

_She doesn’t hear much past the words mom and gone, because really what else does she need to know._

_What else could possibly matter if those two words are irreversible._

_It’s a heart attack, apparently. She know’s that can’t possibly be right._ _Its unimaginable amounts of shock and pain ripped through her body, and hours of too much water leaving her body, through her eyes and her stomach, she’s sure. It’s violent, and impossible, it’s absolutely impossible, so she doesn’t even try to fight it._

_It can’t be real, is the only thing that she’s sure of. It can’t be, because she was just here. She just saw her this morning. She just hugged her last night._

_The world can’t possibly be turning if her moms not here, it’s not possible._

_When her dad makes it home from the hospital, he doesn’t say a single word, and if she’s honest, she doesn’t even want to hear what his voice would sound like anyway._

_Sleep doesn’t come, for any of them, but hot tears are heavy, and nobody moves for hours, not until the light outside goes from pitch black to dark blue._

_She thinks they’re all waiting for the same thing._

_For the door to open, for her mother to come home._

_She doesn’t._

_Sleep won’t come, not for a long time, but she has to be alone, just for a minute. She drags herself limply to her room. She had thought for a while that the most violent sobs of her life were past her, but the ones she tries to suppress in her bed are far worse.  
_

_You wouldn’t be able to ask her when or how, because she doesn’t know, but she does know when the light is just a little lighter outside, she feels the bed beside her dip._

_She didn’t hear the door, or the footsteps, or any explosion that could have possibly happened within a foot, but she does open her heavy exhausted burning eyes to bloodshot honey ones.  
_

_The violent sobs she thought she had outdone herself with seem like child's play compared to the ones that her body racks with into Tobin’s neck as she holds her._

_Tobin turns into a snot rag quickly, and she doesn’t care at all, but Christen wouldn’t have the mind to know if she did, anyway._

_Eventually, Tobin is grabbing the blanket beneath them and bringing it over their heads, just like they’ve done a million times.  
_

_It’s their safe space from the world, it has been since they were kids, the place they always go together, but a place they go alone sometimes, too._

_Tobin once told her she does the same thing at home, and it’s a little different, a little colder, but it feels almost just as safe if she pretends she’s in Christen’s bed._

_Christen knows exactly what she means, Tobin making it much warmer than she can by herself, just like she is now._

_Christen fogs it up within seconds, but neither of them have any interest in moving as she cries into Tobin’s forehead, hot and wet._

_She tries to speak, just a little, but her throat won’t allow it, and deep gasps of breaths fill her lungs instead, and she gets out half intelligible words._

_“I’ve got you,” Tobin’s hot whisper brings more tears and a sharp intake of breath as she continues.  
_

_“Breathe,” Tobin’s painful whisper sounds like she’s begging in tears, and so Christen tries, she really tries for her._

_She wouldn’t be surprised if she died right here, if her heart stopped suddenly, if she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. She doesn’t even think she’d mind right now, but then she feels Tobin’s heart so heavy against her own, and she finally agrees to let a breath in._

_She exhausts herself enough into a sleep state many hours later as Tobin holds her tight into her neck, and she pretends nothing else outside of this exists._

Coconut. 

Maybe not coconut, maybe something more like cream soda. Or maybe something more specific, like the smell of a cadbury creme egg, but in a coconut. 

That has to be it, a cadbury creme egg in a coconut, but wearing..

Old spice? 

No, Irish spring. 

A cadbury creme egg in a coconut wearing Irish spring, that’s it, that’s what she’s smelling as her eyes flutter open in the warmth of her pillow. 

She hums into the source of warmth as she starts to feel her body get it’s senses back from her deep sleep. It’s just a little awkward when her pillow hums back, is all.

Her eyes finally open to the blue morning light around them, and everything comes back in a snap. They fell asleep against the lifeguard tower, emotionally drained from the night, right in the spot where they’ve always come. 

She hasn’t detached from the sleeping coconut pillow human, not just yet. 

Tobin is still in a deep sleep, her mouth just a little too pouty to be awake, but her arms around Christen are strong and secure, holding her in the place between her knees. 

Christen should move now, she should. She’s awake and knows better, she should detach from Tobin’s body where she’s laid back against the wall. It’s just, she almost feels as if she can’t. 

Until her body quickly heats up with a spike of anger at the coconut pillow human, because _they could have had this._

_Every morning of their lives._

She wiggles her way out, as best she can in her uncomfortably dried clothes without waking the sleeping girl up. Unfortunately, as soon as Tobin’s arms are empty and Christen is gone, there’s nothing she can really do to help.

She watches the water as she feels Tobin groggily taking in her surroundings in the corner of her eye, and she doesn’t really know what’s next. There’s a sense of calm between them that feels different, at least, she thinks there is, anyway.

Maybe that's just her.

“Morning,’” Tobin sleepily mumbles as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes, and Christen is still looking out into the water, the sun still asleep, but the waves awake as ever. She hasn’t been around a freshly awake Tobin like this in a long time, not since high school, and she doesn’t want to look and see her now, because she already knows the soft, compliant eyes she’ll find.

Tobin would accidentally sign her life away in the morning if it was offered, at least, that’s what they used to joke about all the time.

She doesn’t find the joke all that funny anymore.

Christen does look over after a moment, a formality if anything, just to shoot a quick small smile before her eyes are back to the water. She counts the waves coming in, remembering the trick Tobin taught her when they were little, seven waves, she’d count, and sure enough, a big one would come. 

They stay there together in the calm, waiting for the sun to poke out and say good morning.

Christen thinks back to the night before, she thinks of the good parts, the parts where they were just like they used to be, the parts where if high school Christen somehow appeared, she wouldn’t even notice a difference.

Maybe high school Christen would notice an extra crinkle or two by Tobin’s eyes when she laughs, knowing her features like a blueprint after so many days and nights spent together. Nothing else would have really given it away, though. Tobin was soft and gentle with her, pulling laughs out of every which way, just like she’d always do. 

She thinks about what happened after, the things she had said, the things _Tobin_ had asked. She thinks of what happened to her body, the feeling of lava overtaking her into oblivion until she was thrown in the ice cold water. 

She thinks of what all of that meant.

It had to have been a breakthrough, the fire, the burning inside of her, nothing else makes sense to her. She wanted to give up, really give up, saying the same thing she had said to herself back then.

_If Tobin doesn’t want me, I don't want her._

Tobin, of course, being the most complicated challenge of her life, put the fire out, and she doesn’t feel thankful, not really. Tobin may have stopped something that would have set her free, once and for all.

It doesn’t feel fair that Tobin threw her into freezing cold water, not if she was never going to help her get warm when it was over. 

“I’m sorry,” Tobin whispers to her, and she can feel her eyes on her, and even though no part of their bodies are touching as they sit side by side, she feels the heat of it. 

“I don’t..” Tobin trails off, and Christen gives her all the time she needs, because Tobin doesn’t usually start these conversations, but she’s trying now. “I don’t know why I keep messing this up.”

Christen turns her head where it leans against the wood, her eyes finding the place where Tobin’s hands are playing with the rips of her own jeans, a thoughtful habit.

“I get so mad sometimes I can’t think about anything else..” 

“I make you mad?” Christen questions dryly, because really, what has Christen done to make her so mad all the time.

“No, I do,” Tobin clarifies softly, her eyes still soft and open on Christen’s harder ones. “I make myself mad, and then I mess this whole thing up for you.”

Christen nods slowly, understanding slowly working through her body.

“I sit at home and I..” she starts again, an exhale leaving her lips, but an inhale coming soon after. “I want to make this all better.. but then we’re together, and it’s like..” 

“I don’t know.. It’s like, I’m trying to fix the wrong thing.” 

Christen’s heart slows, just in case Tobin has more to say, but nothing comes.

She waits, and she waits, and she doesn’t know how to help her along because Tobin is a fighter, she won’t ever stop fighting it.

She’s watched Tobin fight this battle in different ways her whole life, even when she was tiny and being helped along by her mom with math homework.

Tobin never feels like she can do things, her soulmate is no exception. 

_She won’t give in._

She doesn’t want Christen enough to do so. 

Even when Tobin’s body is begging her to fight against her mind, her entire soul disagreeing with her, she keeps fighting, she’ll _never_ stop fighting it. 

“I have to leave soon,” Christen whispers painfully between them, and she hopes she doesn’t hear the painful part, but who cares, it’s never mattered to her before.

She does hope, however, that she hears all the things she doesn’t say.

_Please make this easier for me_

_Let me go if you don’t want me_

Tobin’s eyes are tightly shut as she nods and Christen watches her swallow prettily before she hears her plea.

“I can do better, I can chill, I- I just have to chill out, can we just- can we just try one more time, because I can make this better, do my part.”

Christen nods almost the entire time Tobin is talking, knowing exactly what she’s asking for.

_She just needs another chance, and she’ll do right by me, she’ll help me with this last part of moving on._

She doesn’t expect for Tobin’s hand to be offered, but she also doesn’t expect to find two big guilty brown eyes that look a little wet, so she doesn’t even have to think about it before their hands are clasped together in a handshake.

Her hand is warm, and it’s a promise _._

The gentle smile that she gives Tobin is natural and soft, she just hopes the sadness her heart feels with the promise goes away soon. 

∞

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps to herself when she finds her father waiting in the kitchen as she strolls in.

_She forgot to call him last night._

“Language, Christen!” 

“Shit, sorry.”

_Oops_

“Christen!” 

“Sorry!” Christen grimaces. 

He looks sleepy, not exhausted, but sleepy, the sun has risen for at least an hour by now, and she hopes she didn’t keep him up worrying, not remembering to shoot him a text. 

Shit, it was one of her most important promises never broken in high school, _home by midnight, that was it._

“ _What_ is your problem this morning?” He asks with a puzzled look. 

“Sorry, gosh, I totally forgot to text you last night, you probably thought I was dead or like-“

“Oh, that,” he laughs softly, her startling greeting making more sense on his features, and everything is making way less sense on hers. 

“Thankfully, I raised one semi responsible child that texted me before I even got home,” he smiles with one raised eyebrow into his coffee. 

_Tobin._

“Oh,” she whispers. 

_At least he didn’t worry._

“How was your night?” He asks happily, pulling out the stool next to him that she happily takes with a sleepy sigh. 

“Nemo had a good night,” she answers honestly with a tight lipped smile. Her dad scoffs at her attempt, though.

“Talk to me, Chris,” he pleads, just a little, just enough. 

“I- can I ask you something?” She wonders softly, her eyes on her hands, wondering if it’s too much. “It’s sad though, it’s a sad thing.” She clarifies in an attempt to warn him, just in case. 

“You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“I know, I just- 

“Christen,” he urges softly, a smile in his voice. 

She almost thinks about not asking him, about changing the question out loud to be something stupid that doesn’t really sit on her mind, but it’s just- 

She’s leaving soon. 

“Has it gotten easier..” she starts with the familiar feeling of swallowing down tears at the subject, “losing her?” 

He hums, almost like he was expecting the question, and she wonders how he can even be asked that without falling apart. 

_How can he be standing after he lost her._

His soulmate _,_ the love of his life, the person he dreamt of forever with. 

_How can he still be going?_

“In some ways.. it has, in some, not so much, but..” he brings his hand to her wrist, “Christen, she gave me enough love on this earth to last me several lifetimes.” 

The tears gather by her eyes gently, and she doesn’t bother rubbing them away.

“Plus.. she’d kick my butt if I were sad all the time,” he pulls a small wet laugh out of her. 

Maybe there’s advice there somewhere.. something about appreciating all the years she had with Tobin instead of wallowing about what she won’t have now. 

Maybe she’ll think about that later, though. 

∞

It’s unspoken, but it’s mutually understood.

At least, she thinks it is.

They’re taking space, just a little, they know the clock is ticking, they know there’s things to be said, but she figures what she hopes Tobin figures, they have time.

It’s different than it's been in a long time, though. It starts with a text, and then two, and then a link to a funny video, and then two.

They speak casually, Tobin sending a picture of the mess she made at work with the little _uh oh_ monkey emoji, and Christen feels just a little lighter about it. 

There’s nothing wrong with it, not really, they were best friends, and now they’re.. they’re something, and it’s okay. It’s all okay, and if she saves the picture of Nemo in his shark costume on halloween that Tobin sends, well that’s okay, too.

It all feels quite healthy, and if she breathes a little better the last few weeks, well that’s what this whole thing was about anyway.

They’re beginning the second week of November, and Christen is happily spending her time on the couch, nestled comfy into the corner with a bowl of pretzels, and her phone close. The text finally comes, and she imagines Tobin is finally out of work now, actually, she knows she is because this is what time she seems to leave all the time.

She pretends to not know why she’s smiling at the time that reads back as early as 10:03 PM, because that’s just a little too fond for what they’re doing.

_Are you home?_

She pretends not to smile at that part, too.

She types back a quick update about what she’s been watching, this animated movie on netflix about a snail named Turbo wanting to be like a racecar. She doesn’t tell her about the part where Turbo reminds her of Tobin in a weird way, because she really wouldn’t be able to explain it.

She doesn’t get a text back, and it makes her sigh, not because she’s clingy but, she just felt like talking, she guesses.

Not clingy at all.

When her phone does finally vibrate with a text, she’s quick to pick it up, even though she’s planning on waiting a couple minutes to respond, because she can. She doesn’t have enough time to do so though, when the text is followed by a string of other texts.

_Front door_

_Open please_

_There’s a moth_

_Chris there’s moth_

_Flying xnsl;_

The rollercoaster of emotions that range from surprise to urgency mixed with fondness is like whiplash, Tobin totally never got over that fear of flying insects, did she.

She’s up and padding across the house as soft as possible as she multitasks stifling her laughing and ignoring the butterflies in her stomach preparing to see Tobin. 

It’s not a weird thing, not really, she just hasn’t seen her lately.

Luckily, she doesn’t have to school her features into anything when she opens the door because Tobin is flying in like she’s escaping a swarm of murder hornets.

She never quite understood the girl who was almost scared of nothing but couldn’t handle anything that flies, from the traditional fly and a butterfly all the way to a bee. 

She can see the scowl now in her mind on Tobin’s face whenever she’d ask about it and Tobin would give her the same answer about not liking the idea that _those things can go from a million feet away to up in your space within seconds._

“Nearly died out there,” Tobin breathes out dramatically as she gets herself together, and Christen laughs as she locks the front door. 

“What are you doing here?” she wonders genuinely, and she doesn’t mean it, not at all, but she can’t take the fondness out of her voice or off her face.

She watches as Tobin reads her like her favorite book, and she doesn’t care.

Tobin lifts the impossible not to notice pizza box in her hands a little higher and smiles, and Christen feels so light she could fly.

“I thought it was pizza and animated snail movie Friday?” She tries with one of those _did I forget to turn the oven off_ faces, as if that’s a real thing and she got her days mixed up. Christen is rolling her eyes with her best attempt at hiding her grin.

“We’ve gotta be-” 

“Quiet, I know,” Tobin mocks the rest of her sentence in a whisper, having heard it her whole life.

∞

It should be easy.

They _are_ adults now.

They aren’t two hyper kids energized from sugary snacks that their little bodies are trying to handle, or selfish teenangers that are having too much fun to care about their volume. It should be easy to be quiet, it really should. 

It’s just, it’s really not.

It’s mostly hushed whispers and small laughs at the movie at first, eating their respective sides of the pizza, but Tobin is.. well she’s Tobin, and she likes to be on the floor, it’s just what she does.

So she watches as Tobin makes her own small couch right below the real couch, and she scolds her the entire time, because what is the point of doing that when the real couch is so much comfier.

Tobin, of course, gets that challenging look in her eyes and it’s over, really. It takes her what feels like half an hour to finish, and by the time she’s happily sitting down with basically all the couch pillows, well, the real couch doesn’t seem so comfortable anymore.

Christen slides down with her, their backs against the cushions of the couch behind them, making quite the headrest, if she’s honest, but not willing to admit that. 

“You can say it,” Tobin mumbles around the pizza in her mouth, and no, she can’t say it, because there’s nothing to say.

The makeshift bed couch is only more comfortable than the real couch because Tobin took apart the real couch to make it.

Kind of defeats the point, doesn’t it.

“Okay,” Christen starts with a shrug, “I miss the real couch.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do,” she shrugs defeated, “this will have to do though, you know, since you took apart the real thing.”

“Made it better,” Tobin corrects in a mumble around her last bite with an overly sassy finger.

“I will say one thing, though,” Christen lets her know, taking her own bite of the perfect amount of fresh pineapple, “this is the best hawaiian I’ve ever had.” Tobin hums as she takes a sip of her water.

“It’s no fancy Harvard degree job, but I _do_ get to make my own pizzas for free,” Tobin reasons, and it’s light, but part of Christen wants to stand up and scream about how proud she is of her, but that’s sort of ridiculous, isn’t it. 

_Keep it light._

_You haven’t had Tobin this carefree in years._

“Well now that I know _you_ made it..” Christen gives her a grimace for good measure, and Tobin looks mildly offended. 

“Best Hawaiian of my life,” Tobin mocks her earlier words with a voice way too high to possibly be an impression of her own. 

“How would you know if it’s good, you’re scared of pineapple on your pizza,” Christen challenges as she picks up the last slice to bite into.

“What are you talking about? I like pineapple on my pizza.” 

Christen freezes mid chew, because _that’s_ a lie, Tobin hates pineapple on her pizza.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do, watch this,” Tobin goes to get a Hawaiian slice and is met with crumbs, but quickly moves her hand to go for the one in Christen’s. 

“I don’t think so, this is mine,” she brings the pizza further away from Tobin with a laugh at the point she knows Tobin is trying to prove.

“One bite,” Tobin pleads softly, puppy dog eyes in full effect, but Christen isn’t doing _this_ because Tobin’s one bite is half the pizza. 

“You’re just going to spit it out.”

“Nuh uh,” Tobin shakes her head, moving her body so she can get a better reach, but Christen is faster as she stretches out onto her back with a childlike giggle.

“Don’t you remember the sharing song,” Tobin teases as she crawls over Christen’s body, purposely trapping her from moving further, trying to bring her mouth to the slice that’s way too far.

Christen is laughing so hard her strength is entirely useless as Tobin’s hand makes it to her wrist and pulls it closer. 

“One bite,” Tobin squeaks above her, mouth opening quickly after to prepare as she tries to pull the slice into her mouth and Christen is completely defeated as she lay trapped on her side between Tobin’s knees.

“Okay, okay, alright,” Christen squeaks knowing she’s defeated either way, “one bite, one _regular_ _human_ sized bite,” she compromises below her.

Tobin meets her eyes above her with pure amusement and a convincing nod, promising she’ll do a human sized bite. She lets her wrist go limp as Tobin moves it for her to her mouth, and Christen is watching her bite into it like time has frozen.

Tobin’s face is just a little red from the effort she just put in, and her eyes have laughter in the corners of them, the small lines just begging to get bigger with a full toothed grin she knows they love.

Tobin is smiling as she chews and hums, and it doesn’t look too fake, and it’s sort of surprising because Tobin _hates_ pineapple on pizza.

Then again, Tobin _does_ go far to make a point.

“Told you,” she finishes chewing and Christen would laugh, she really would, because how did Tobin force herself to like pineapple on pizza, but Christen has another focus entirely. 

She’s trapped between Tobin’s body still, her right thigh between Tobin’s knees, and she can feel Tobin’s left arm behind her back, keeping her up.

There’s a lot she should feel, and she does, but those are quiet feelings compared to the feeling of absolute warmth and safety of being under her like this.

It stops the laugh on her lips entirely, and she prepares her heart quickly for the loss of it that’s about to come as she meets Tobin’s eyes. 

To her credit, Tobin doesn’t bolt away like she had expected when the laughter slowed, she slowly frees Christen’s body by rolling to her side, right next to her still.

The warmth is still there, just a little less, but it’s still there as they lay side by side, Christen still on her side and Tobin on her back. 

The room is almost entirely dark besides the movie screen that’s paused, but the blue illuminated water from the pool just barely makes it to the ceiling of the space in front of the patio doors, and it looks like waves on the ceiling. 

They lay there in comfortable silence, nothing but the sound of their exhales, and Christen isn’t tired, but she does want to fall asleep like this, so she closes her eyes, and lets it stretch on.

She hears soft ruffling eventually, and she thinks Tobin is probably just leaving, but when she feels her lay back down, even closer, she’s a little confused. 

Until she feels the familiar feeling of a blanket encase them, Tobin’s hand holding it up just enough so they can breathe with a little more space. Christen’s surprised eyes turn to meet Tobin’s, but it’s too dark to see anything but the outline of her face.

She just knows she feels her breath on her lips, and she’s close. She’s so close, their noses are almost touching, and it calms her entirely.

She lets it be, she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t pry, she just closes her eyes after she wraps her mind around it all. 

Tobin is warm, and her scent engulfs her entirely in the air of the blanket, and it feels like a hug around every inch of her skin. She feels safe, and she just lets them be. 

And when she feels a forehead on her own, she lets that be, too.

She felt like she could sleep earlier, sure, but every desire for that is out the window now. She’s waiting for Tobin to whisper that she has to go, or maybe just to leave without a single word, but it doesn’t come. They lay there like that, Christen awake as ever, eyes closed, for hours into the night. 

Tobin could be asleep, she could be, she sounds like she is, then again, Christen probably sounds like she is, too.

She likes to imagine that Tobin is hearing the millions of conversations Christen is having with her in her head, she imagines Tobin can see all the things she’s showing her. 

_Please fight._

_Fight for me._

She prays she hears the words, and pleads she understands what they really mean.

It’s definitely too hot in here, the sweat gathering on both of their faces, but she’d go into a sauna with a winter coat if it meant she could do this, heatstroke be damned. 

It’s unfortunate really, the fact that she’s human and her body does things without her permission, but in the end, she falls asleep. 

She wouldn’t mind that as much if she had woken up the same way she had fallen asleep, but of course, she doesn’t. 

It stings, just a little, but there’s a soft undertone of thankfulness for the moment they shared instead of anger when she looks at the empty spot next to her.

She decides she’ll make pancakes for her dad this morning before he wakes up. 

For no specific reason at all.


	7. Magic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where’s waldo but it’s t

_She brings her face into her hands sadly where she’s leaning on the wood of the patio overlooking the blue illuminated water._

_The phone stares back at her, 12:32 AM._

_How did she end up here?_

_How did this become her life?_

_Why her?_

_Why?_

_She brings her elbows down and her arms to lay across the wood as she brings her head into it, laying on the rail with a sad sigh. She tries to breathe the stress out of her body, long and deep breaths, soothing and strong to remind her she’ll be okay._

_How could this be happening to her?_

_Christen thought they were past this, she thought they were good, that they were back for good. Tobin had been becoming a frequent flyer in their home again after her mom passed, the experience bringing them all closer the last year.  
_

_They’d been doing good, really good, better than good. Tobin had held her through it all, she resembled a sense of normalcy in the house for all of them again, pulling smiles and small laughs out of all of them. She had been good._

_Really good._

_So good, Christen’s bed had smelled like Tobin again every night she wasn’t there, and the small touches and strong arms had become so normal it had become a phantom touch when she was gone. It was better than almost ever before, she was closer to her than ever before._

_Tobin came home to her, they had already been through this, she came home.  
_

_She took some space before graduation, and Christen got that, both of their schedules having a lot going on, prom for Christen that Tobin wasn’t interested in and graduation requirements for Tobin, but then it had hit Tobin’s birthday, and nothing.  
_

_No response, nothing at all, and maybe Christen knew then, but how could she not hope she was wrong._

_Now it’s half an hour and two minutes past Christen’s birthday, and nothing._

_Absolutely nothing._

_Maybe she had been dumb to wait, maybe she should have known this would happen, maybe she should have stayed out with her friends earlier instead. Maybe she should have savored whatever life she could before the pain set in when Tobin inevitably didn’t show up.  
_

_Maybe somewhere deep in her soul she knew this would happen._ _She should have never come home at all,_ _it just hurts more._

_How could Tobin do this to her?_

_Eighteen, she’s eighteen now, and Tobin is nowhere to be found._

_They both know what it means._

_They may have never talked about it directly in the way Christen wanted to, mentioning it as if it’s something that’s happening to them in third person so she doesn’t scare her too much, but Tobin knows._

_She thinks Tobin has always known, the same way she did._ _Tobin knows they’re both eighteen now and this was meant to be their night._

_“What do I do, mom?” Christen whispers to the water into the wood, her forehead resting on her arms, the soft sounds of the water in the pool desperately trying to calm her down.  
_

_How can she calm down when Tobin isn’t here, she’s supposed to be here. Christen knows it’s complicated, that Tobin is probably scared, that she maybe doesn’t want this as deeply in the same way, but she’s still supposed to be here._

_“I’m sorry I’m late..” her voice comes from the side of the patio, two steps being slowly taken up the stairs, and Christen doesn’t know how to feel, because how could you be late for this?_

_She takes her in slowly, quietly._

_She isn’t sure where she could have possibly come from, it’s unlike her to be this cleaned up, something she’s only seen a handful of times, once at a funeral she doesn’t like to think about. She’s dressed in a black button up and slacks, she looks clean and soft._

_She also looks sad, and Christen doesn’t ask, because there’s too much to wonder right now. She doesn’t ask anything, actually, because she’s petrified of the answers. She just stands there, leaning her back against the rail, her arms crossed from the light chill of the night._

_Tobin makes her way to her eventually, slowly, and Christen stands still, her eyes finding her favorite ones, desperately searching for answers._

_She just wants to know if she’s in this._

_Tobin looks soft and open, but there’s also a hint of guilt, guilt she hopes is from being late, guilt she hopes is in their past now.  
_

_Guilt she hopes won’t intensity, because if Tobin is only coming to clarify Christen’s deepest fears, she can’t imagine being able to breathe after._

_“I’m eighteen,” Christen whispers between them, her eyes searching the ones on hers thoroughly. Tobin nods softly, taking another step to close the distance between them, careful not to touch her._

_Christen is just as careful, knowing what they hold in their touch now, because if Tobin’s not in this-_

_“I know,” Tobin whispers closely, soft and warm on her lips, her arms moving to bracket Christen’s body carefully. Tobin’s hands are holding the rail behind her, and she’s so close- she’s so close, it doesn’t feel anything like a goodbye._

_“Happy birthday,” Tobin tries softly, the guilt heavy in her eyes. Christen nods, the tears feeling too heavy to not fall soon, just wanting answers._

_She just wants answers to questions she’s too scared to ask._

_She waits and she waits, and she waits some more, but Tobin doesn’t move, not an inch. Christen stays warmly between her arms, waiting, and waiting._

_She’s dragged Tobin along for what feels like their entire lives, she’s had to push and pry and pull and plead. She can’t help her with this, this has to come from Tobin._

_She can’t do this part._

_So she waits, and_ _she waits, and_ _they stand, and_ _they stand._

_She despises that she can feel Tobin thinking about it, because how great of a privilege it is to be able to think about this when Christen can’t fathom living without it._

_She’s wanted this since she was little, not just the fiery love and marriage and kids, the future, she wanted it with Tobin. She always wanted it with Tobin, ever since she was old enough to imagine it for real at all._

_She had even thought about the absolutely devastating possibility of Tobin not being her soulmate, of someone else belonging to Tobin and her touch not burning into her skin.  
_

_She had dreamt of it not mattering, of them being runaways instead, of nothing else coming between them._

_She’s Tobin’s, regardless of what fate has decided, she’s just Tobin’s, that’s it.  
_

_There’s no other option for her, she doesn’t want anybody else, if the universe got it wrong, well, that’s on the universe._

_She swallows down the tears she refuses to let fall, and she waits, and then she feels it. She feels Tobin’s forehead against her own, and her own eyes are still open, watching Tobin’s closed ones that flutter as she lets out a shaky exhale._

_“I’m scared,” Tobin admits in a fervent whisper, and Christen wants nothing more than to hold her, to do what Tobin does for her so often now, and rarely lets Christen return. It’s entirely opposite of what it used to be when they were younger, but she loves it. She loves her._

_It’s just, she can’t hold her yet right now. She can’t, because her fingertips hold fire now, and she won’t touch her without permission, and a promise. So she does all she can do, and she tells her the most honest words she’s ever uttered as she shakes her head against Tobin’s warm one._

_“I’ve got you..” Christen whispers the promise Tobin has uttered before under blankets, “I’ve always got you.”_

_She feels Tobin get just a tad closer, even though it feels like a penny wouldn’t drop between them at this point._

_“I’m going to fuck this up,” Tobin whispers in what she hopes will be the last attempt to scare her off._

_It won’t, of course, because Christen knows her, she knows she’s scared and she thinks she’ll be bad at this, but Christen knows something Tobin hasn’t learned yet. There’s nothing Tobin could do to fuck this up as long as she’s here._

_Christen will love her through anything._

_“No,” she shakes her head, “you won’t, we’ll get through it, we’ll-“_

_“Chris, you’ll be stuck with me forever,” she almost sounds as if she’s pleading against it, but the problem is when the words fall from Tobin’s lips, Christen doesn’t hear a warning, she hears an answered prayer._

_“You promise?” Christen asks softly, and she can almost feel the doubt leave Tobin’s body at her response._

_Christen has a small smile on her lips, her fingertips impatiently clawing at the bottom of the post behind her. Tobin opens her eyes, her warm breath hitting Christen’s lips again, and she’s so close, she’s so close-_

_Tobin retracts her arms from the rail, and she brings them to her side, her forehead still on Christen’s before she moves that too, but she doesn’t go far._

_She doesn’t go far at all._

_Christen watches as Tobin slowly brings her hands to the top button of her shirt and starts to unbutton it. She does that for the first three buttons, and Christen isn’t confused at all, not even a little bit, she knows exactly what she’s giving her._

_The action brings two perfect tears to fall down her face as she waits for Tobin’s eyes, and when she finds them, Tobin nods, full of emotion._

_Christen always wanted a love like her parents, and Tobin did promise her she’d have it, and she’s giving it to her, she’s going to let Christen love her. She’s going to let her touch sink into her heart forever, and more tears fall at what’s to come._

_“Are you sure?” Tobin asks, one more time Christen hopes for good measure as she nods happily._

_She’s never been so sure of anything in her entire life. It comes before the sky is blue, and cows go moo, her heart is only beating for Tobin’s, it’s as easy as anything she’s ever learned._

_It’s slow, she makes sure of it, to give Tobin every chance to change her mind, she brushes her knuckles up her shirt, careful not to touch her skin with her fingertips yet. Tobin watches her hand as she pushes closer, her forehead back where it will always have a home on Christen’s own._

_Tobin nods one more time against her head, and Christen waits, she waits and waits, and nothing changes, and her fingers feel like they’re burning as they get closer to the skin above Tobin’s heart._

_They both let a breath out, and she knows it’s time._

_It happens fast, she feels it almost like a shock from her fingertips to her heart, she feels nothing but warmth. She doesn’t have a single second to think about anything else after this, because as fast as it happens, for the first time in all their lives, Tobin’s lips are on hers._

_It’s her first kiss._

_She had saved it, not a single ounce of sacrifice within the action, simply never having the desire to have anyone else waste their time. Her lips were Tobin’s before she had ever even been awake, it was in their destiny, she felt it in her heart._

_Tobin’s lips are strong and steady, and soft and warm. It comes natural to Christen as she responds, she pulls everything that Tobin pushes, and she chases the taste she thinks she can’t believe she’s ever lived without. Tobin’s scent is strong around her, and Tobin’s hands are gentle and secure as they hold her face.  
_

_They kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss, and Christen feels a warmth behind her left ear that she had never felt before, like a soft warm blanket is keeping her safe._

_They break, and they breathe, heavy, catching their breath, and when one of them can’t take it anymore, their lips are right back where they belong._

_She knows this was written for them, the universe having already known they belong together, her father used to explain it as a time saver, a definite. She knows it’s not surprising, it’s not surprising at all that she’s Tobin’s and the universe knows it, too, but she can’t believe she gets this for the rest of her life._

_She gets to have this for the rest of her days._

_Nothing else could ever be enough._

_Christen’s hands move from Tobin’s chest down to her sides, and then around her back as she rakes her nails down the soft fabric of her shirt, and for the first time in her life, her ears hear the bliss of Tobin’s soft moan._

_Tobin breaks the kiss and leans against Christen for support as she desperately tries to catch her breath, and Christen almost feels half bad._

_Almost._

_Tobin’s shaky exhales become Christen’s desperate inhales, and they stay like that in the moonlight of her backyard. They just kissed for what felt like seconds and hours at the same time, and yet, Christen can’t get close enough to feel satisfied.  
_

_She kisses at Tobin’s jaw, respecting the breathing break, and she moves onto her cheek, and she makes it to the space below her ear before she brings her face into her neck and her arms to fit snug around her._

_She could fall asleep here, her nose deep into her neck, Tobin’s hand cradling her head and their chests moving together. She could fall asleep here, she could, but she just wants her too bad._

_“C’mere,” she mumbles into her neck before she takes the warm and soft hand from behind her back into her own, leading her to the door. They make it professionally quiet to her room, Tobin’s pulse racing right behind Christen’s, and they make it to her door the same way they always have._

_It’s just different when Tobin closes it behind her, not even looking, and Christen is smiling into a kiss that the stars on her ceiling had never seen before. It’s a messy game of whose limbs are whose at first, clothes being slowly taken off, one sock at a time, but their lips never part, except for once._

_“I-“ Christen pants softly, catching her breath in Tobin’s lap, her heart beating almost out of her chest, “I’ve never-“_

_“Me neither,” Tobin pants into her lips with a small shake of her head, her eyes searching deeply into Christen’s._

_And maybe, just maybe she mentioned it because she just really wanted to know, but also, maybe she just really wanted her to know, too._

_This is yours, just like I am._

_Christen nods into her forehead, her perfectly warm and soft forehead, and she slowly goes to undo her own bra, Tobin’s hands catching her._

_“You’re sure?” Tobin whispers, and Christen laughs into her lips, because yeah, yeah she’s sure. How could she not be sure._

_It’s clumsy and perfect, there’s quiet laughs into each other's lips, the breathier ones come later, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.  
_

_Besides Tobin in general, anyway._

_Tobin’s skin is warm and soft, everywhere, she’s pleased to learn. There’s never an end to her warmth, it’s inevitably endless, and she’s so pleased, she’s so absolutely pleased with it all._

_Most of all, she’s thankful, she’s so utterly thankful the universe let her have this. It didn’t have to give her a full lifetime, meeting when they were just so small, it didn’t have to do this at all, but it did, and she’s here.  
_

_They get a lifetime together, a full lifetime. She gets to feel Tobin like this for the rest of her life. It makes her feel invincible, like nothing bad could ever happen again as long as she has this. As long as she gets to love her._

_She gets to love Tobin for the rest of her days, and she thinks the world didn’t even have a choice, because nobody could love Tobin the way she can._

_She’d be best at it, even if she lost all her limbs and eventually her mind, she’d still love Tobin with a passion no other human could understand. Her eyes are full of unshed tears in gratitude, because if nothing else goes right in her life, this did._

_Eventually all she can think about is the feel of Tobin around her and how warm it all is, what a privilege it is to be here, around her and under her._

_She sees stars both behind her eyes and when she opens her eyes multiple times, Tobin panting gentle breaths of I love you into her neck that she wishes she could keep bottled up forever like a souvenir._

_She’s never heard those words said like this before, and she never wants to hear them from Tobin’s lips any other way ever again._

_Christen says those words so much that night she’s almost scared they’ll lose their meaning or something, at least in Tobin’s ears, but she’ll never find out._

_Or maybe she did find out._

_She isn’t sure._

_She wakes up when the sun is high enough in the sky for it to be noon, and Tobin’s side of the bed is much too cold for her liking._

_She looks for her, of course she looks for her._

_She’s not in the house, and she’s not at the beach, she’s not even at her own house when Christen searches for her, having to even see the man that makes her seethe._

_She doesn’t answer her phone._

_Christen pretends she doesn’t know what this all means, but she thinks she’s known what this all meant the second she felt emptiness beside her.  
_

_She thinks maybe she never even believed her to begin with, maybe she knew she was never staying the second she had come at all.  
_

_How could she do this to her?_

_When she walks into the kitchen and her dad looks at her with curious eyes, she finds out her body has known all along, anyway._

_She breaks into a million tiny pieces against the kitchen counter, and it feels like shards of endless pain, and she never gets herself back together. It’s the worst year of her life, easily, but in that moment, she feels like she’s going to die._

_The knowledge that she’ll have to live the rest of her life without the only person that makes it turn for her is heavy on her heart._

_Yet, the knowledge that Tobin doesn’t feel the same weighs even heavier._


	8. Submarine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nemo is a good boy and we all know it

“He just keeps sending the better chefs home,” Christen groans, popping another apple slice into her mouth.

“He can’t be doing that bad.”

“I just think he’s doing it to upset us on purpose, so we’ll keep watching or something,” she reasons, closing the fridge with her hip.

“That makes no sense,” she hears Tobin chuckle into the phone as something drops in the background. 

Things have been good since they had fallen asleep under a blanket like they were kids again. Christen hasn’t asked why it happened or why she left, she hasn’t mentioned it at all, because things have been good. 

_Why ruin it with questions?_

“Whatever, what are you doing today?” Christen asks curiously with a smile, the soft sound of a small cry in the background from her favorite dog in her ear. She hears Tobin shush Nemo quietly and make more ruckus in the background, probably picking up whatever she dropped.

“Tobin,” Christen’s scolding laugh comes natural, knowing Tobin could never really focus for too long on a phone call in the first place, “you can go if you need to.” 

“What? No,” Tobin is quick to clarify, “I don’t want to go.”

She bites her lip and tries to figure out what she’s doing again in a softer voice. “What are you doing?” She asks again, purposely letting the fond smile in her voice drip through the phone, just to let her know she’s not annoyed. 

“Nothing really, just- I’m actually trying to paint my cabinets.”

Christen’s hushed gasp is too fast to fully stop, too excited by the fact that interior painting is one of her most favorite things to do. Growing up, she’d always be the first one down and by the bucket when her dad needed something done, and she’d always take the longest too, never wanting it to be anything less than perfect.

Something about being able to put a new color on something that was so vacant of it before is so comforting. 

“Chris?” She’s shaken out of her thoughts.

“Oh- yeah, yes I’m here, what color are you painting them?” 

“Blue.”

 _Blue_.

Blue is the best color to paint with, it’s all dark and bright somehow simultaneously, such a calm and- Is that a badly stifled laugh she hears?

“Tobin!”

“Christen,” Tobin’s voice is thick with pretend seriousness. 

“You did that on purpose!” 

“I-“

“You know I love painting, why didn’t you say anything before?”

“You-“ 

“Do you need help?” She interrupts again, her apple slices long forgotten on the kitchen counter. She hears Tobin’s laugh now, full and proud, and she decides no matter what she says, she’s coming over.

“Yeah, I could use a steady hand,” she lets her know, pretending it’s some huge sacrifice or something. 

“Okay, I’ll be over soon!” She hangs up quick, not even sparing the other girl departing words. She’s even quicker to squeal when she opens her drawer to find her favorite large button up with Cambridge Blue stains from their front door.

She makes it over there within ten minutes of the call, not living very far and deciding to take her car instead of walking with the deep colors of the evening closing in. 

“Hey, you-“ Tobin stops herself when she opens the door, her eyebrows raised as she blinks excessively at her outfit, “wow, did you bring your crew?” She asks, looking behind Christen’s shoulder and around the street for a painters van, she’s sure. 

“Shut up,” she mumbles past her, hitting her shoulder on the way in and gasping when she sees her favorite four legged friend. Maybe if she wasn’t so busy admiring how cute and soft Nemo is as he gives her kisses, she’d be cautious of how much she coddles him in front of Tobin. 

Maybe.

But probably not.

“ _I missed you, I missed you, yes I did_ ,” she squeals softly as he wiggles himself on his back around the floor, getting premium belly rubs, if Christen does say so herself. 

“Are you hungry?” She hears from the kitchen, and when did Tobin even move past them?

“No, I’m okay,” she answers, moving back to her feet with one last belly rub for Nemo who looks about ready for bed. 

She wonders how a dog can be so perfect, but then again, that is why-

“Oh, wow,” she gasps, coming around the corner to see the color for the first time. There’s only about a quarter of what needs to be painted done, and she’s so thankful for it, because this looks fun. It’s the perfect color for the space, vibrant but just enough that it won’t grab all the attention against the counters. 

It reminds her of the sea, but calm, and safe, maybe like a harbor. 

“Do you like it?” Tobin asks, eating a handful of cereal out of the box, probably having not eaten since she started. Christen nods happily, genuinely impressed with the choice. 

It’s perfect for their home.

Tobin and Nemo’s, that is.   
  
  


∞

It takes a little less than two hours with the both of them, Christen taking her sweet time with her side. The soft playlist Tobin has playing is the only sound between them besides the paint brush against their containers.

She’s listened to Tobin hum along to about half of the songs, and if the strokes she does when she’s not listening to Tobin humming come out a little worse than the others, well, that’s a coincidence. 

Nemo is in his bed, half of the time gnawing on his chew toys quietly, and the flicker of the candles in the living room above him bounce off the walls prettily. 

The small home is perfect, and she can’t stop thinking about it. 

It’s not that she’s not happy with her own, her home was always beautiful and big, having everything most kids would dream of. It’s not that, it’s not that at all, not really. It’s just, Tobin _didn’t_ have that, and now, her home.. it’s perfect for her.  
  


_“Blue,” Tobin’s grin is full toothed and happy as she lays her cheek on their shared pillow, eyes brightly stuck on Christen’s carefully watching ones. Their game of flashlight shadows under the blanket long forgotten, but Tobin’s big eyes sparkling just the same._

_“Can I help paint it?” Christen wonders, crossing her fingers in anticipation hoping Tobin will let her paint her dream house when they’re big enough. Tobin nods happily at her, her smile turning more curious._   
  
_“What about your house when you’re bigger?” Tobin asks her, and Christen doesn’t usually dream about her own house when they do this, so she doesn’t know what color she’d want._

_Usually she listens on as Tobin describes hers and Christen quietly dreams of whatever Tobin dreams of instead. She doesn’t know how to explain that though, that she dreams of the same house Tobin has described, quiet when she wants it to be and blue. Warm, with pictures of doggy’s everywhere and animal cookies in a big jar._

_It sounds like a dream to Christen, so she answers the best way she can._

_“I think I want my house to be blue, too.”_   
  


“Done,” she hears Tobin sigh tiredly behind her with a small groan as if she turned to finally get off her knees. Christen is finishing up her last section and humming out a small laugh in acknowledgment, because she gets it, she thinks her back is probably going to be sore in the morning. 

“No way,” she hears behind her, still focusing on her last few strokes, but looking behind her with wonder before Tobin continues. “How is your side better, we did the same thing.”

Christen shrugs smitten with herself, because yeah, hers is probably better. To be fair, Tobin did take a million breaks, probably making her patterns dry differently when she returned, but they’ll all dry the same in the end, it’s all about patience.

When she finishes her last bit and puts her container down safely, she goes to turn around with a smaller grin, ready to let Tobin in on the secret, but she doesn’t.

She doesn’t, because she wonders how short Tobin’s memory can possibly be right now.

“Tobin.”

“Hm?” Tobin looks up from her phone, the silence stretching for a moment because Christen is figuring out the best way to tell her. Tobin is starting to get that impatient look on her face, and she decides, there really is no best way to tell her. 

“What?” Tobin tries again cautiously. 

“You’re leaning against the cabinet.” 

It takes a second for realization to settle on her face, but when she does, and she slowly lifts herself off of it, the sounds of her shirt sticking to the paint fill the room, and Christen loses it.

The image of Tobin’s completely blue painted shirt on her back doesn’t help her from keeping it together either when she opens her eyes. 

Tobin grunts loudly as she tries to get the least amount of paint anywhere else on her body, but it doesn’t work, because her hands both have paint on them from gripping it, and the side of her shirt is completely brushed with it.

Christen shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but she takes her phone out anyway. It’s just, she didn’t realize her camera flash was on. 

“What was-“ 

Christen quickly brings her phone back into her pocket with a grimace, and she thinks Tobin has never looked so offended in her life.

“Chris!” she groans childlike and offended, and Christen covers her smile immediately.

“It’s not funny.” 

“I agree,” she nods along, biting her lip.

It was only a matter of time, really, but Tobin starts to get a look on her face that morphs from frustration to a brain blast, and Christen prepares with her finger already up.

“If you get paint in my hair I will never talk to you again,” she says seriously as Tobin takes two steps closer. 

“I don’t want to get paint in your hair,” Tobin starts with a pout, too soft for Christen’s liking, “I just want a hug.” 

_There it is._

“No.”

“For helping.. you came all this way.”

“I live up the block,” she corrects as she moves against the kitchen sink, as far away as she can.

“One little hug?” 

“Tobin, I swear on everything I love-“

She feels the cold wet paint immediately on her arms from Tobin’s hand, desperately trying to get her face away into the space above the kitchen sink, but Tobin is relentless.

She’s willing to let it go, really, she is, it’s just a little paint on her arms and shirt from Tobin moving her arms behind her. 

Except, when she feels cold wet hands on her cheeks, Tobin has obviously chosen war. She can feel the paint smudging all around her face as Tobin continues to rub it in. 

“ _I missed you, I missed you, yes I did_ ,” Tobin mocks her earlier words to Nemo as she pushes Christen’s cheeks together. Christen is laughing with dripping sarcasm, feeling the wetness of the paint and thinking about revenge.

She brings her hands to Tobin’s wrists and brings Tobin’s own wet hands to her own face as she moves the paint everywhere she can through Tobin’s smile, even getting some in her mouth. 

Tobin won’t be smiling long though, soon realizing this isn’t her only punishment.

“You have a little-“ Christen points when she drops both their hands.

“So do you,” Tobin's smile is goofy and pretty, the small lines by her eyes covered in blue and Christen mimics it right back as they stay in each other's space.

She’s close, their bodies are pushed together against the counter, the silence between them as they smile is comfortable and warm. 

Except, when Christen’s hands move fast to the nozzle of the kitchen sink and she sprays full blast into Tobin’s unsuspecting face, her own smile becomes big and real as she watches the paint drip down her neck. 

The blast stops within seconds, and Tobin is stuck there with her eyes closed, moving the water out of her eyes with her thumbs carefully trying to not get paint in her eyes.

It’s silent for a second, Tobin finally opening her eyes to Christen’s biggest grin and Tobin’s laughter completely gone.

She just doesn’t expect for Tobin to hum and then for her to be lifted off the ground like a sack of potatoes, is all.

“Tobin, put me down!” She’s squealing over her shoulder, genuinely trying to get down, but Tobin’s grip is strong and secure, and she’s scared of slipping on paint at this point. 

“I am,” she hears above her and she gasps when she realizes where she’s going. She almost stops her, almost, she has her hands gripping outside the bathroom door with all her strength, but it’s no use as she hears Tobin’s laugh.

“Tobin, I don’t have any clothes with me!” She pleads through a laugh she desperately didn’t want to have as she hears the shower door open. 

“I’ll give you some,” Tobin reasons through a laugh so hard Christen can feel her body shaking with it. 

“Tob-“

She stops fighting as soon as she feels the water, she already knows she’s going to be soaked to the bone no matter what, and the only truce between them feels like the feeling of warm water instead of ice cold. 

She feels her feet on the ground again but she’s trapped between the wall and Tobin’s body and the water is directly in her face. 

She has a feeling it’s not to be helpful, but Tobin is laughing as she moves her hands to help scrub off the paint on Christen’s face messily. She keeps her eyes closed through most of it, Tobin’s non helpful paint scrubbing turning into actually trying to get it off her cheeks and out of her eyes eventually. 

It probably shouldn’t be, but it’s soothing, the feeling of soft thumbs stroking paint off her cheeks gently. She feels thumbs daintily stroke through her eyebrows and across her eyelids. 

They could be there for ten years or two seconds, she isn’t sure, but the warmth of the water mixed with the gentle touches could definitely put her to sleep.

When it feels safe to look, she looks up to the feeling of Tobin’s scrubbing stopping at her face and moving down to her jaw. 

When she searches for Tobin’s eyes, she quickly realizes she won’t be finding them, her soft eyes focused attentively on her neck, and then she feels it.

Her thumb may have been on her jaw, but her fingers are softly brushing against the mark behind her ear, and Christen closes her eyes again at the feeling, not caring about what it looks like, because she definitely knows it looks bad. 

How else would you describe closing your eyes at the touch of your ex best friend almost soulmate kind of still a soulmate but not really. 

It’s hard to really feel it fully, the skin on skin contact, because of the water still cascading over them. If she really focuses though, she can separate the two and it makes her heart jump painfully in her chest. 

_This is stupid._

_This is so stupid._

_What is she doing?_

She keeps her eyes squeezed shut painfully when Tobin’s forehead makes it to hers, and her hands don’t move from where they’re softly rubbing at the space below both her ears on either side. 

She feels the stress of the last four years of her life essentially leave her body with each stroke of a thumb, and maybe it’s because she’s been touch starved, but maybe it has nothing to do with it. 

The tears fall out of her eyes without permission, but she finds there’s no better time to cry than under a shower where they can’t tell the difference.

“Hey,” she hears whispered like a prayer, and maybe she wouldn’t even know it was a word over the sound of the shower had Tobin’s breath not hit her lips.

Their foreheads are still together, Christen’s head resting against the wall and her eyes still shut. 

“S’okay, don’t cry,” Tobin whispers with a swipe of tears with her thumbs and Christen breathes out a laugh because what else is she going to do.

She feels exhausted with how much love she’s carried around all these years, and she can’t help but feel like in these small moments with Tobin she can let them rest, just for a second before she lifts them up again.

“I’m sorry,” Tobin seems soft and sure, and she doesn’t know exactly what it’s for but she nods against her head anyway, opening her eyes.

It could be a big sorry or it could be a small one, she doesn't know and she doesn’t care, she accepts either of them, as long as they’re from her.

There’s still anger there over things they haven’t talked about, but it doesn’t matter right now, right now they’re okay. Like always, she probably shouldn’t, but she’s leaving soon, and they’re healing with each other, and she just wants to ask.

“Can I see yours?” She whispers as she brings her hands to the neckline of Tobin’s shirt, and she’s really asking for her to have permission to pull the shirt down, but Tobin nods, and does her one better.

Way better.

When her heavily soaked paint covered shirt is thrown in the corner away from them, the only regret she has is the loss of warmth it took where Tobin’s hands were on her. 

Tobin is all soft and tan skin, and it’s a lot to take in, because she could remember this, but it’s been years, and it feels brand new. She notices the same thin gold chain of her cross necklace hanging down, and she wonders if Tobin still feels the same about all of that. 

She wonders if Tobin thinks God just simply made a mistake and gave her the wrong soulmate and she forgives him. She’s thought about it before, that Tobin’s pull to her soulmate was meant to be so strong she’d choose them over everything else, and Christen’s pull just wasn’t strong enough. 

She wonders if there’s someone out there that will make Tobin forget all of her doubts and everything else and just try for once. 

She wonders why that couldn’t be her.

She thinks about how there’s so much that Tobin has that pulls Christen in, but what does she have that pulls Tobin in? 

_Nothing, apparently._

She often wonders if she could have done better, if she didn’t try hard enough for her, it could have even been the last straw the night they spent together when they were finally marked. Christen think’s being pushy and emotional has probably done both of them zero favors. 

Maybe she could have said something or done something just.. better. 

She often wonders if it’s not really Tobin’s fault at all. 

She imagines she looks like a wet dog by now, her clothes still on, but Tobin doesn’t look like a wet dog at all.

She’s never seen it, not fully, they had been too preoccupied the night she put it there to look, and between herself and the universe, she was planning on thoroughly examining it that morning after, but obviously that went to shit.

It’s real, for as far as her eyes can tell, it’s the imprint of her finger, right where she had put it that night. The back of her neck feels so warm and she thinks that one probably has nothing to do with her own mark at all.

She probably shouldn’t, as usual, but her hand is moving before she can stop herself, and the second her fingertips softly land, it feels like coming home.

Her forehead naturally falls softly onto Tobin’s, and she thinks this whole thing is probably quite strange, but she doesn’t care. When Tobin covers her hand over the mark on her chest with her own, she realizes Tobin doesn’t really care much either.

In another life, she’d have the privilege of kissing her by now, but it isn’t another life, and this is too much for what they’re doing. She reaches out to turn the shower off and the silence that overtakes the room is a fitting end to a moment that was only meant to be temporary.

“It’s late,” Christen creates space between them as she pushes off Tobin’s chest, “do you- can I have a towel?” 

“Yeah..” Tobin nods quickly, looking around the bathroom sheepishly, “I’ll get you clothes, too.”

“Thanks,” Christen mumbles, starting to really feel the cool air against her wet clothes, effectively giving her goosebumps. She watches as Tobin stretches her arm for the hook, her jeans still dripping in the shower. When Tobin looks back at her about to give her the towel, she stops with a sympathetic look.

“You should- I’ll look away but you should get your wet clothes off and..”

“Oh,” Christen blows out a tired laugh, feeling just a tad exhausted from the whole night, “oh, right.. yeah, of course.” She goes to comply, not really caring if Tobin see’s her anyway, but after many failed attempts at getting the heavily soaked shirt off after the button up, she grunts tiredly.

Tobin meets her eyes behind her when she hears her, and Christen almost feels sad with how badly Tobin looks like she wants to help.

“I..” Christen starts with a tired sigh and Tobin looks ready to move, so she doesn’t even finish her sentence, simply nodding her head with permission. It’s all she needed to hear apparently as she hangs the towel back up on the hook and brings herself over to help her as Christen lifts her arms up dutifully.

When the shirt is thrown into the corner where Tobin’s is, she’s unbuttoning her jeans and Tobin is doing the same by the shower door. 

By the time Christen is in her towel, she’s watching as briefs hit the floor and she should offer her the same respect really, it’s just, she didn’t even know what was happening before she looked, and the whole thing feels so domestic, she just wants to cry.

_They could have had this._

By the time Tobin makes it back into the bathroom with dry clothes, Christen is a tired emotional mess and she just wants to get home. The clothes that she’s handed smell too much like a cadbury creme egg in a coconut wearing irish spring, and it’s all just too much. 

This whole day was too much.

“You can stay,” Tobin lets her know as she puts all of their wet clothes in the hamper, and Christen pretends seeing their clothes thrown in the same hamper doesn’t just make sense. “If you want.. I could take the couch.” Tobin’s smile is hopeful and pretty, and Christen needs a break.

“I should probably get home,” she declines gently with a sleepy smile, moving to get past her with a small pat to her stomach to say goodbye as she moves into the hallway in her new warm clothes. 

“You don’t have to,” she hears rushed behind her as she continues to walk to the front door for her shoes and keys. She hears the familiar sound of Nemo’s paw charm hitting his collar and she knows he’ll be waiting for his goodbye kisses. 

She may not have to go, but she definitely should.

She just needs a minute to remember what she’s doing here, because surely it isn’t to have intimate moments with Tobin’s soulmark in the shower. She meets Tobin’s soft stare when she picks up her keys and slides her shoes on, and she smiles at her reassuringly.

She’d be willing to bet Tobin feels a bit guilty for tonight, but really, she’s just as guilty, isn’t she? Tobin has nothing to worry about, she didn’t do anything wrong.

“We’ll do something this week, I’ll text you, okay?” Christen tries. Tobin nods slowly to it, and she takes it as a win before she bends to give Nemo goodbye kisses and whispers secrets in his ear.

It’s a theme with her, so she probably shouldn’t, but she looks at Tobin with a question in her eyes, and Tobin nods once with her arms just barely opening.

It doesn’t matter to Christen anyway, she thinks she’d fall into her embrace no matter how small it was. If she could stop time, she thinks she’d probably stop it right here, warm and comfortably snug into Tobin’s neck. She’s so tired she thinks she’s only being held up by the body against hers, but Tobin doesn’t say anything about it. 

She’s thankful for the hug, and if there’s a fleeting kiss to Tobin’s jaw that’s as soft as a feather, well, neither of them say anything about that either, and she’s thankful for that, too. 

She doesn’t look behind her before she leaves, but she pretends behind her is the looks of two sad puppies watching her leave.

Maybe it’s a subconscious effort to make her feel better, but she thinks maybe it’s a good thing she won’t have to see that every time she walks out the door. 

_What the hell was she supposed to be doing here again?_


	9. Shallow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long showers and turkey day decisions

_College sucks._

_At least, most of it, anyway._

_She hates waking up and going to class, she hates having so many assignments, she hates that her roommates make noise.  
_

_She never feels like she got enough sleep, no matter how early she closes her eyes, she hates that she’s away from her dad and she hates that he’s as alone as she is._

_There's an anger nestled so deeply inside of her directed at the world, it feels like there’s no room for her to even be a person anymore._

_This wasn’t what it was supposed to be like, her phone wasn’t meant to be void of two of the most important names in her life. She has her dad, she knows she has her dad, and her sisters, but it’s different, it’s just different._

_So she doesn’t speak about it._

_Any of it._

_It proves to be difficult, considering most people by this age are just now finding their soulmates, and the subject is entirely normal to bring up. She sees the mark on Alex’s wrist and it’s not hard to find the one on Kelley’s palm, but Christen doesn’t ask about it in hopes that she won’t be asked back._

_She had found her own mark behind her left ear several days after Tobin had left that morning, angrily searching for it in the bathroom mirror, and she wonders if it’s easy to spot for them._

_She figures it's probably at least easier than it was for her. She doesn’t wonder for too long why Tobin chose that spot, mostly assuming it was an accident in the moment, but then again, she does know Tobin doesn’t do many things without reason._

_She doesn’t care, anyway._

_What does it matter?_

_It doesn’t burn, not once, sometimes it’s warmer than usual, but it’s just barely noticeable the first few months. A lot of times it just feels cold, if she’s honest. She tries not to touch it anymore, already fixating on that briefly before, and after she forces herself to stop touching it, she forces herself to forget it’s even there._

_When people inevitably do try to make small talk, she just nods her head with a smile when asked about if she has found her soulmate, and she likes to think nobody waits for any further information._

_By the second half of the year, she realizes Alex actually proves to be good company. She’s all kind actions and soft words, and it’s different from what she’s like around her friends, and maybe it’s because she can see Christen struggling, but who knows._

_She decides to give it a shot anyway, what else does she have?_

_She eventually finds out that the nights she’ll spend with Alex and her friends, who eventually become her own friends, are the best nights she’ll have in a long time.  
_

_She stops hiding out in her room when they bring people over, she stops being in bed so early and thinking so late, tiring herself out throughout the day instead._

_She feels like she’s almost a regular college kid by now, having a lot of time to laugh and even more time to appreciate having her own space finally.  
_

_She learns that being alone isn’t so bad, and she almost wants to write a book on how to forget all of the bad things in your life, because she feels like a pro._

_Except for those few angry outbursts, the ones where she wakes up throwing her pillow as hard as she can at the wall in angry tears or feeling a burning feeling in the spot that reminds her of Tobin.  
_

_She goes through almost all of them alone, except that one, that one where finally Alex caught her and she felt so desperate to stop it she agreed to therapy._

_She doesn’t tell her dad anything past wanting someone to talk to, just in case. He just doesn’t have to know that the ‘just in case’ has already been happening, he doesn’t need anything else to worry about.  
_

_She spends the summers in the same apartment, but she gets a job at the coffee shop most of her friends work at to stay busy and to pay her own way without her dad’s help._

_Maybe it’s sort of her only way she can think of apologizing for not coming home for the summer, too. She just doesn’t want to be there. She doesn’t want to be there at all._

_It’s that very August that she meets him._

_He’s Alex’s best friend from home, and that information alone could almost make her trust him entirely with her life, considering how good Alex is about reading people. His name is Sam, and he becomes a staple in Christen’s life without her even realizing.  
_

_His laugh is almost always in their apartment every weekend, and he’s at every party she really ever goes to. One night when Alex gets so drunk she can’t even remember her name, she watches him fondly as he holds her hair back and tries not to gag at the puking noises below him._

_She had already thought it, but when she leaves to get some water to do her part for Alex and she comes back to him doing his absolute best to put her hair into a bun with a youtube tutorial playing on his phone, she thinks maybe he’s too gentle for this world._

_It’s a few months into her second year when she realizes something she had never thought about before._

_It happens on a regular night in their apartment, a few people scattered around in conversations, a secret bottle of vodka creating a buzz around them. Kelley starts a small interrogation about everyone's soulmates, wanting to know how everyone met theirs and what it was like being marked, and Christen is typically the only one who will find herself making a getaway when this starts._

_It’s just, when she opens the sliding back door to the small balcony they have, she realizes Sam has made an escape, too. She notices in this moment that Sam doesn’t have a noticeable mark anywhere, not on either of his wrists or arms, not on his palms or on the sides of his fingers._

_She can’t find anything, absolutely anything._

_More than that, she realizes he’s never asked her about soulmates once in his life, not exactly something that happens in small talk these days._

_She thinks she finally gets it._

_She thinks she finally understands the closest guy she’s ever met to a golden retriever._

_She could be wrong, in fact, she hopes she’s wrong, for his sake, but it would be the first human she’s ever met like her, so she gives him a soft smile as she leans against the rail with him as she thinks of how to handle this.  
_

_He blows out a laugh as he shakes his head and he looks almost desperate to get some of the night air into his lungs, and Christen just continues to watch him closely._

_“You’re looking at me like you know my big dark secret,” he whispers scandalously without looking at her, seemingly trying to downplay it as a joke, but he’s squirming just a bit.  
_

_She feels bad, but she really doesn’t, because this isn’t going to be the interaction he fears, the one where she looks at him like he’s a broken toy and she couldn’t imagine it being her._

_She isn’t judging him, not even a little, and she’s not going to coddle him with sympathy either, because she’d hate that, too._

_“Maybe I just want to tell you mine..” Christen whispers back with a small smile still facing him leaning on the rail. She's trying to somehow make him understand without saying it, because she’s never said it out loud before, and she doesn’t know what it’ll feel like.  
_

_He does at least finally meet her eyes, startled confusion on his face, examining her soul the same way she has for his. He looks like he doesn’t believe her in the end, like she must be talking about something else, but then he’s taking a sharp intake of breath._

_“I don’t..” he starts by shaking his head, “you have a mark.. a soulmark, behind your ear.” Christen closes her eyes at the observation and faces towards the street below them, the soft lights of the town illuminating their eyes._

_If anybody’s ever noticed where it is, they’ve never asked her about it, and she realizes how observant he is, and she wonders how long he’s been looking for somebody like him._

_She wonders if he was sad that he had found one on her eventually._

_She wonders what it’ll be like when he figures out it doesn’t matter that she does._

_So she says the only thing that she feels she can say without crying, and hopes he’ll understand._

_“I forget it’s even there sometimes,” she whispers, shrugging like it’s not a big deal, but she bites her tears back, because she won’t cry, not anymore.  
_

_She can feel his eyes on her, burning into the side of her face, much like she had looked at him earlier, trying to figure it all out._

_She looks at him after a while, and when she finds two hurt puppy eyes glistening in muted surprise, she realizes yeah, he was too gentle for this world._

_She learns that Sam had met his soulmate last year, bumping into her quite literally at a party, and when he had felt his finger burn into the inside of her elbow as he was about to apologize, she had looked like she had been shot.  
_

_Christen learns that she had already fallen in love in high school, that she was one of those runaways Christen had dreamt of being, had Tobin not been hers._

_That went well, she thinks._

_She learns that even after some tearful pleading, Sam let her go with a kind nod of approval and he was never marked, for his own good, apparently, and he doesn’t hate her, but Christen does for him._

_She wonders how someone could ever not want to get to know their soulmate, let alone him of all people. How could you not want to get to know him?_

_He doesn’t have a mark that would burn, but he does have that feeling in his heart, that same alone and not good enough feeling, and Christen learns that she’d take it on for him, if she could take it away.  
_

_They become inseparable after that, her days are filled with laughter and she feels as close as she can get to whole in this new version of her life.  
_

_She shouldn’t, but she divides her life in a sort of before and after Tobin left sort of way, and this is probably peak happiness for after._

_Her burning comes back throughout it all, never leaving her completely alone, but she shakes her head and lets it go, and she tries to remember the good things she has instead._

_She’d just be lying if she said when her phone buzzes unexpectedly sometimes that she doesn’t turn it over in a rush, only to throw it across the bed with a pang in her heart that she thinks will never fully go away, but she can do this._

_She can do this._

The hot water hitting her neck and falling down her body is a sharp contrast to the usually much colder showers she takes to get rid of the heat behind her neck.

She didn’t feel the familiar feeling of wanting to crawl out of her skin at the familiar warmth behind her neck this morning, instead wanting to savor it for as long as possible.

She brings her forehead to rest on the shower wall above her hands, the water still hitting the back of her neck and gently rolling down her spine. 

The memory of Tobin’s forehead against hers just a few nights ago is heavy on her mind, and it’s bad, it’s really bad.

It’s the exact opposite of what she’s meant to be doing right now, it’s the exact opposite of why she’s here, but she does it anyway.

The urge to text or call Tobin the way she said she would when she had left her that night is overwhelming, but she can’t do it, not like this.

She just needs a minute to breathe in her own space, to remember why she’s here, just like she told herself she would.

She just can’t remember why she’s here when all she can think about is how badly she wants to be wrapped around warmth that smells of coconut and fresh laundry. She breathes out a hot sigh against the wall, and the drowsy feeling of angry tears feel deserved for how bad she’s done so far.

She has to leave soon, but she’s nowhere near where she’s supposed to be mentally. 

The thought of leaving to be further away from Tobin again is excruciating.

She’s supposed to be closer than ever before to happily imagining a life lived without her, but it feels like the exact opposite has happened when she thinks of not having her this close again. They’re not nearly as close as they ever were before it had all fallen apart, and yet, she feels like she’ll die without her all over again.

She thinks maybe this was never going to work out to begin with.

She thinks maybe she had always known that and wanted to try anyway, if not just to be around her for whatever reason Tobin would allow. She thinks that’s the exact reason she didn’t come home before this.

She thinks maybe she should just stop thinking.

She’s slowly drying herself off with her towel when she finds her own eyes in the mirror, and the image of her own sad eyes make her feel tired. She doesn’t feel angry anymore the way she used to, and that’s definitely progress, but she wonders if the sadness she feels will just become a constant in her life.

She hasn’t involved Sam much in this part of her life at all since she left, knowing it would just be selfish to use him as a shoulder to lean on through it, but she knows he would be there if she did.

They exchange pleasantries through texts often enough, they text enough for her to know that he loves London. She’s seen the picture he’s sent of the bakery by his flat and has laughed at the idea of him picking up the accent when he repeats his order.

She isn’t sure where she stands yet, but she knows she’s behind, and worst of all, she knows he doesn’t mind that at all. 

He’s patient, just as she had told Tobin honestly.

He’s just patient.

She shakes off the idea of calling him to vent, because she knows it’s not fair, not for this part, but she does shoot him a text with the words _I miss you_ , because she does, how could she not.

It doesn’t matter how much or in what way, it just matters that he knows he hasn’t been forgotten.

She brings herself into her room to get clean clothes instead. She isn’t sure where her day is going, but she knows another day of not speaking about the things she should with the person she should be talking to is just more wasted time. 

Time that she’s barely holding onto like sand slipping through her fingers.

The sound of her name being called up the stairs echos through the hallway just as it did when she was little and her mom was waiting for her to come down for dinner.

When she makes it down the stairs with her hands deep in the pocket of her sweats, her mind feels heavy, but the bags of food obviously for Thanksgiving remind her of the times spent unpacking with her mother, and everything else fades away.

“Why didn’t you ask me to come?” Christen asks lightly, a soft smile on her face as she watches him unpack the wrong kind of stuffing boxes, they’ll work, but they’re definitely wrong.

_She definitely should have gone._

“Oh, I thought you fell down the drain,” he laughs as she scrunches her face up offended, because it wasn’t even _that_ long of a shower. 

She helps him unpack once she finishes with her glare and she’s pleased to learn he hasn’t forgotten anything. She wonders why he so uncharacteristically went shopping for all of this and is so determined to make dinner, but her belly feels a hunger just thinking about it all.

They have the marshmallows for the sweet potatoes and the celery for the stuffing, they even have the cranberry sauce in a can nobody will ever eat but Tobin, and she smiles at the memory.

“Is Tobin coming this year, baby?” Christen pauses at the question.

“Huh?” She asks, as if confirming the question she already heard will help her answer it.

“Tobin, is she coming for dinner?”

“Oh, um” Christen shrugs, “I didn’t- I don’t know.”

“Oh,” she watches as his eyebrows almost meet, and she knows it doesn’t make sense to him, probably this whole thing doesn’t really make sense to him, but thankfully, she knows his eyebrows will even out and he’ll leave it be.

“I was going to make her favorite lasagna..” he trails off with a shrug, and it seems sad, but not in a way that is meant to make her feel guilty, she knows that, but it doesn’t help.

It suddenly all clicks for her, the rare excitement to go shopping, the way he hadn’t missed any ingredients on his trip, the lightness of his mood.

_He’s excited._

He’s excited to have them all home.

 _All_ of them, and she can’t blame him, because she kind of really was excited to have them all home for dinner, too.

“Make it,” Christen decides confidently, “I’ll use it as leverage,” she jokes with a light but hopeful smile, and she gets the same one back in return.

She’d do anything to spend another Thanksgiving with Tobin, anyway, she just has to ask.

She quietly wonders how Tobin has spent the holidays the last few years, and nervously hopes she’ll want to come to theirs again. 

Even if it's just for one more time.

She thinks if for nothing else, Tobin really does love lasagna.

  
∞

She should have called.

She knows she should have called, it’s just, she waited too long overthinking about it and now it’s half past five and Tobin is probably at work.

At least, she should be, if her schedule the last few months hasn’t changed, not that Christen has memorized it.

She should call first, or maybe shoot her a text, but when she passes by Tobin’s place and doesn’t see her car, she knows she’ll have to wait until she gets off.

She doesn’t really want to do that, and also maybe she just hasn’t seen her in a few days and they haven’t really texted and it’s totally normal to want to see your friend. 

_That’s what they’re supposed to be now, right?_

The town is mostly quiet right now, only seeing a couple parked cars in front of the brick buildings with pretty trees lined up together. 

This little part of the small beach town was always one of her favorite parts, lit up by lantern lights at night and smelling the smells of the open bakery door on the corner by the small cafe across from the pizzeria.

The memories of Tobin’s pizza crust filled cheeks and sauce stained shirts as kids when her parents took them lay warmly on her heart.

It’s the memories that live between just the two of them as teenagers here that feels so heavy she can barely carry them as she makes her way to the door.

_The sound of the soda machine against her cup sounds way too familiar for the short amount of time they’ve been here. Luckily for her, when she meets the nice owners fond scolding eyes, she knows he doesn’t care._

_“She has super human sips, I’m telling you!” Christen grunts to the sound of Tony’s laugh as she passes by the counter back to their table outside._

_When she opens the door she notices how dark the sky has gotten since they’ve been here and realizes it’s been way longer than she thought._

_She has to be home by ten but she doesn’t care much about it tonight, she’s old enough now that they’ve started junior year and she thinks she might just have to text her parents she’s with Tobin._

_Then it’ll all be forgotten anyway._

_When she finds her seat on the wooden bench happily with her newly filled root beer, Tobin brings one leg over the bench and turns her body to face Christen._

_“Is that..” Tobin starts with a dramatic gasp, “fresh root beer?” Christen nods happily into her straw meeting her eyes and moving it out of her reach when she puts it down._

_“It tastes so much better than the last one,” Christen lies with thankful closed eyes. Tobin’s own eyes hold nothing short of jealousy, and it already has Christen laughing at how bad she knows she wants it._

_“Okay, what if I promise to-“_

_“Nope, no way,” Christen denies after she watched her already drink her whole first glass on accident. At least, that’s what Tobin calls an accident._

_“I let you have the bigger half of the garlic bread,” Tobin leans the right side of her jaw into her hand on the table and scoots closer, and Christen feels nothing short of warm._

_“You ate the half I didn’t finish anyway,” Christen chuckles into her space, naturally moving closer into her, and Tobin shrugs nonchalantly._

_“Still,” Tobin pouts, “one sip.” Christen scoffs at the usual request she knows she’ll give into quickly anyway, but it’s nice to pretend she won’t, if not just for a little show._

_“Please,” Tobin pouts, her body moving even closer to bring Christen between her open legs on the bench, and the warm breath that hits her makes her smile. Tobin smells of a fresh after practice shower and detergent, and Christen just wants to fall into it all like her bed after a long day away from it._

_“Okay, one sip,” Christen sighs, knowing she’ll at least save her some this time, and maybe she’s still just a little warm at the thought of them sharing a straw, even after all these years of doing it._

_To Tobin’s credit, she takes a regular sip from the straw slowly before she puts the cup down, but Christen wouldn’t really notice anyway, because she’s so close in her space, she’s all she can breathe in._

_They’re best friends, and she loves her, and it has to be normal to want to be stuck between her legs like this forever._

_“Chris?” She hears behind her, and the deep voice sounds familiar, but she still has to turn to see who it is, and she hates that she feels Tobin pull away just the slightest._

_Even the smallest bit feels like too much though, doesn’t it?_

_“Jake,” Christen smiles as she watches her friend trail behind two other familiar faces from school._

_“Hey Tobin,” Jake nods vaguely before moving his attention from the small space between them back to Christen. “You still coming tomorrow night?”_

_“Yeah, I mean..” Christen lightly shrugs, “I kinda have to, it’s a mandatory fundraiser.” She chuckles, because if she had the option, she probably wouldn’t go, but she can’t lose the club as an activity on her college applications._

_“Oh, right..” he smiles awkwardly, the sound of the bell on the door waiting for him as his friend holds it. “At least we’ll be there together,” his smile grows as he waves goodbye to them both and walks inside._

_When she looks back at Tobin when the bell rings one last time when it closes, Tobin’s eyes are still on him through the glass, and she wonders why she never took to him as much as she did._

_There’s one reason in her mind that seems impossible, but she hopes to God it’s why, because she gets it, boy, does she get it._

_“Hey,” Christen’s soft voice brings Tobin’s eyes back to her own, “do you want to go to the beach?”_

_Tobin looks like it’s all she wants to do, but her sigh of annoyance is familiar, and she knows exactly why. Her dad really did help raise one semi responsible child, as he always says._

_“It’s almost ten,” Tobin reminds her sadly as she lets her own sigh out, finishing her root beer quietly, savoring the feeling of still being around Tobin’s warmth._

_When they decide to get up and finally leave, the feeling of Tobin’s soft palm sliding into her own makes her forget how to breathe as they start to walk. Her chest feels entirely still but her heart feels like it’s trying to break out of her chest with a crowbar, and she doesn’t know what to do._

_She has to talk herself down to act natural as she keeps the hold between Tobin’s warm fingers loose and easy, and she pretends she doesn’t see Tobin’s eyes look behind them twice towards the pizza place._

_She thinks God gave her the answer to her last question about Tobin not taking to Jake quick, and she blinks in gratitude._

_She probably shouldn’t feel as giddy as she does about it, but it’s the first time she can remember ever feeling Tobin possibly possessive, and she can’t help but think about the feeling for the rest of her days._

_Tobin never had a single thing to worry about.  
  
_ _Christen is just sad to learn that she had things to worry about instead._  
  


“Christen Press, is that you?” She hears his voice for the first time in years, and the smell of fresh garlic and basil fills her nose when the door closes behind her. 

“It’s me,” she chuckles, watching him move from behind the counter to her like he’s stuck on fast forward. He brings her into a hug that smells of Italian breadcrumbs and she laughs into it, because he hasn’t changed one bit. 

“Look at you, all grown up,” he grins before it falls into his favorite realization. “You’re hungry, look here, we have all your old favorites still on the menu.”

Christen rolls her eyes because really, her favorite is just pizza, but she’s guided excitedly to the counter anyway.

She’s so preoccupied by the fifty questions he’s asked her in the span of ten seconds that she almost forgets why she’s actually here.

 _Almost_.

He’s already getting her slices ready to warm up when she spots Tobin in her flour messy tee shirt and her matching hat, and she just looks content. She looks content to be here, to be moving the pizzas in the oven to check them. She looks soft and focused, and she loves the sight.

She looks like she always does, a soft pout firm on her lips but a smile is never too far away, and she knows the crinkles by her eyes are ready for it, just as ready as Christen is.

It’s maybe not the most friend-like feeling, but she feels almost infatuated by the sight of her, missing her too much the last few days. She had already known this from the last few years without being able to see her, but her mind could never do her justice. 

She finds that even if she can’t have her in the exact way she’s dreamed of, it’s _her_ mark on the soft warm skin above her heart, and nothing can change that. 

“Chris?” Tobin’s eyes are prettily searching her own, and she grins at the sight.

“Hi,” Christen leans onto the counter with her hands and a smile that won’t leave, and Tobin wipes her hands as she moves closer to lean on the glass above the pizza.

“Are you..” Tobin starts and pauses as she looks around to see if anybody’s helping her. “Do you want me to..”

“Oh, he already has my stuff in the oven,” she bites her lip, trying to figure out how to ask her what she came here for without making it seem like.. well, it’s what she came here for.

How does she casually bring up Thanksgiving after showing up at the place she knows she works?

She could figure it out if she could think, It’s just, she can’t really think straight at the moment at all. Tobin has the faintest tint of blue on the spot under her jaw and it could be in her head, but she thinks she missed a spot the other day and it’s been impossible to get off since.

She wishes she could spend time trying to get it off for her under hot water. 

“Oh,” Tobin nods, “okay, good,” she smiles happily. She knows her eyes are probably saying more than she should as she takes her in, but if all she’ll have is these little moments, she’s not going to waste them. 

“So,” Christen leans closer to the glass with a shy smile as Tobin quietly watches. “This is kind of the best thing ever, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Tobin asks with a breathy confused laugh.

“You working here,” Christen smiles, “unlimited root beers.. the smell of pizza..” 

“ _So_ much root beer,” Tobin grins happily and it reminds her so much of Tobin when they were little that she gets butterflies in her stomach at the reminder of their lives together. 

In another life, she’d be visiting Tobin on her lunch here and feeding her bites of pizza while she tells her how her day went as she plays with a ring on Tobin’s finger. 

Oddly specific for something she’s never thought about before, she thinks.

“Are you staying here to eat?” Tobin asks with a hint of excitement in her pretty eyes, and if Christen wasn’t going to before, well she is now. 

It probably doesn’t mean anything, but the sparkle in her eyes look familiar, and she just wonders if Tobin has missed her the last few days, too. 

She hopes she has.

She nods softly at the question and she can practically feel the sparkle in her own eyes that haven’t stopped taking Tobin in. 

It’s definitely past friendly at this point, the way they’re taking each other in and how fond she knows she’s being about it. But in this moment, she doesn’t care. Even if she has to go home after this and think about it in warm showers until she feels ready for another interaction as she overthinks it all.

It’ll be worth it.

Just like the other day was worth it. 

“Christen,” Tony’s voice brings them both back to earth as he hangs up the phone, “go sit, I’ll have Tobin bring it out to you,” he shoos her away with his hand lightly. 

“Oh, you don’t have to-“

“Go, go,” he shoos her away a final time and Tobin looks as confused as she does, but she listens reluctantly with a chuckle and a whispered bye for now. She doesn’t remember this top service from Tony growing up, but who is she to argue it. 

When she finds their old spot in the corner of the back patio, she’s happy to learn that almost nothing has changed. It’s one of those times if high school Christen were here, she probably wouldn’t even know time has gone by. 

She shoots a text to her dad in the quiet moment outside before putting her phone down on the table. The sound of the bell on the door comes quickly after she’s sat down and she wonders why she couldn’t just get her own food.

Tobin’s eyebrows are moving with soft confusion as she looks back inside and back to Christen with two plates of food and two bottled root beers, and Christen does the same when she realizes how much food is there.

She _was_ confused at least, until she looked behind her and sees him obnoxiously signaling for Tobin to sit down with her and it all starts to click. 

To her credit, Tobin does sit down slow and confused as she looks back and silently accepts that apparently this is going to be her lunch break.

Christen laughs softly at the scene and happily watches on as she feels the warmth of Tobin’s body next to her own on the bench. 

Like she knew she would, Tobin shrugs off the confusion quickly when she sits and it’s suddenly like it was her idea to eat with Christen this whole time anyway.

Tobin gives her a quick smile before she opens a root beer bottle for Christen and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited for it. 

It totally tastes better in the bottle, but she doesn’t remember the last time she had a root beer at all.

“So,” Tobin starts after she finishes her first bite, “you painted my whole house blue.” Christen gasps because first of all, it wasn’t her fault, and second, she really hopes she got it all out. 

“What parts stained?” She asks genuinely worried. 

“Well,” Tobin starts as she swings her leg over the bench to face her, “there’s some specks on the kitchen floor, and there’s also.. the hallway and.. my favorite place, the shower.”

“How bad is the shower?” Christen grimaces at the thought. 

“It’s.. you know what, I was thinking of painting it blue, anyway.” Tobin shrugs as she sips at her own drink while Christen sighs into her hands. 

“Ah, and my favorite..” Tobin starts with her finger in the air like she almost forgot as she swallows her sip and takes her phone out to show her a picture. 

“A Christen Press original, right by my bathroom door.” Tobin smiles but the picture of a faint blue handprint to the right of the door frame has her feeling nothing short of guilt.

_It’s still not her fault, but why did she do that?_

“Sorry..” Christen whispers into her hands still around her mouth as she almost offers money to fix it all. 

“For what?” Tobin grins reassuringly as she scoots closer to come into view under her hands over her eyes, letting her know it’s okay. “I think I’m going to frame it.” 

“It is your fault, you know,” Christen sighs sadly, feeling like she ruined Tobin’s entire house she’s worked so hard for regardless. Tobin hums with an easy smile as she continues eating, clearly unbothered by the whole thing, and Christen can’t imagine how she couldn’t care about this. 

“Debatable,” Tobin clarifies around a bite, “but, I’ll take this one.” Christen huffs at Tobin’s soft smile still firmly in place, and it works to put her at ease and make it all feel lighter than she feels it is.

She’s only been here a couple months and she already ruined Tobin’s house that she’s had perfect for years. It’s hard to imagine how light that could be. 

Then again, she does ruin a lot of things for her, doesn’t she?

“Do the cabinets at least look nice?” Christen wonders out loud, too late to stop it before she’s grimacing again, because what a bad question. Tobin laughs around her bite of food and hums as she rests her elbow on the table. 

“Your side looks alright,” Tobin shrugs, “but I think my shirt marks _really_ add character to the place.” Christen chuckles as she softly hits her stomach with her hand.

She thinks maybe she gets this whole thing being so light for Tobin now, because she’d pay for Tobin’s shirt marks to be etched into her kitchen cabinets for the rest of her life.

The thought of Tobin possibly feeling the same way about her messy mistakes around her house has her feeling out of touch with reality for a minute. 

_Tobin wouldn’t feel the same way about that._

She decides changing the subject before she forgets again about why she’s here is probably best. 

“So,” Christen raises her eyebrows slightly, totally casual. “Thanksgiving is Thursday.” 

“Is it?” Tobin takes another bite as Christen nods, totally nonchalant, casual and calm, like she’s taking a stroll through the park on a Tuesday.

She remembers all of the first holidays she had spent with Tobin were essentially the first time holidays had really mattered to Tobin at all.

Christen pretends the anger bubbling up at Tobin’s father for that will go away shortly, but it won’t. It’s always there.

She wonders if throughout the years Tobin had just gone back to not caring about holidays again, but she’ll never forget the look of absolute bliss as Tobin was offered all her favorite foods at a table too big for them when they were younger. 

She could be wrong, but Tobin had seemed like she learned to love the holidays, and the thought of her losing that love feels fitting, but it hurts the same.

“Yeah,” Christen’s smile is probably more sympathetic than she means it to be, but what can she really do. “I- are you doing anything?” She falters, just a tad as she watches Tobin’s face scrunch up in genuine confusion. 

“No,” Tobin’s laugh sounds confused at the question, like it was obvious she doesn’t do anything for it, and Christen hates it.

It’s not that she feels people need to celebrate anything, they don’t, it’s just.. Tobin loved that one Thursday in November once upon a time, and it seems she’s forgotten it completely.

She feels like she’s forgotten their memories of it completely. 

“Oh, well..” Christen looks at the space between them as she plays with the wood of the bench and feels Tobin’s eyes on her hands. “If you wanted to.. like if you were bored or whatever, my dad’s making that lasagna..” she trails off.

When she meets Tobin’s eyes, it could be in her head, but it’s almost like she’s startled by the invitation, and she doesn’t know if it’s because it was rude to ask or if she did something wrong.

She just lets it be instead of figuring it out, desperately not wanting to make it worse.

The silence stretches on, is the only problem. 

“Can I get back to you on that?” Tobin asks softly, and Christen nods quickly, making it as light as she can. They eat quietly after that, but Tobin shoots her a little smile after her last bite, and she knows she’ll take it all the way home with her. 

“I should..” Tobin points back to the inside of the store with her thumb and soft eyes, and Christen nods quickly again, letting Tobin take her trash. 

She doesn’t even bother wondering why she’s home anymore as they whisper their goodbyes and she watches Tobin walk back inside. Maybe she should have been getting used to holidays without Tobin this whole time, anyway.

The lonely walk back to her car feels drastically different than the time she had done this walk with a warm hand in her own.

One thing hasn’t changed at all though, because she’s just as much Tobin’s now as she was then, and she thinks she’ll probably feel this way forever.

She just hopes she gets to watch Tobin’s full cheeks of lasagna smile next to her one last time. 


	10. Searchlight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> turkey day but with less peanut butter than that one year.

“Tyler, get your feet off the table, please,” her dad tries for the second time this afternoon while Christen smiles at the sigh she hears.

Her sisters made it to town yesterday morning, and it’s been nothing short of nice. She wouldn’t tell them, especially Tyler because she’s especially smug, but she missed them dearly. 

Having them home has reminded her of a hole deep in her heart that she desperately tries to ignore that is only filled with _this_.

They’re missing two other people, of course, one that will never make it home again, but this is what it is now.

She thinks it’ll be two people that will never make it home again starting today, but really that started years ago, didn’t it?

“He seems fun today,” Tyler huffs as her legs fall from the table. They helped him all morning getting all of the food ready, but he was being a bit moody, and Christen thinks maybe he didn’t anticipate on it being this hard.

She knew it would be, though. 

She always knew it would be almost impossible to replicate Thanksgiving without her mom. It’s just, as she watches him from the couch sigh and pout in the kitchen, she wishes it wasn’t. 

“He’s..” Christen starts, stopping herself to make sure it doesn’t sound like she’s scolding her, because Tyler understands the same way she does, she just handles it differently.

“He’ll be good once we all start eating.” Christen gives her a hopeful smile as she rests her head on the pillow behind her. 

“If we ever start eating,” Tyler grumbles, “so, this is what you do all day?” She asks as she looks around the living room.

Christen laughs at that, because _yeah_ , this is basically all she’s done since she’s been home, of course without the mention of the time spent with Tobin.

“Yup,” Christen raises her eyebrows and nods, making herself more comfortable in her spot on the couch as she watches Tyler grimace at the thought.

“Fun, so I bet you’re excited for London then, huh?” She asks genuinely, and it’s meant to be light, like most things are, but it’s just, she doesn’t _know_ if she’s excited.

She doesn’t even know what she’s doing tomorrow, so she quietly smiles at her question instead after another awkward silence.

“Alrighty then,” Tyler starts with a soft clap preparing her next line of conversation as Christen grimaces internally.

“When is Tobin coming?”

_There it is._

She had shrugged carefully in the kitchen earlier when her dad asked with happy eyes, and she doesn’t know how to tell them, but she doesn’t think Tobin is coming at all.

She had asked her Tuesday, but then she went home and hadn’t seen a single text from her all night.

It was iffy then, but when Wednesday night rolled around and not a single text was sent again, she had let it start to sink in.

Tobin wasn’t coming, and now that it’s Thursday afternoon, only minutes before the time they’d usually eat, it’s as sure as the sun rising tomorrow. 

She wouldn’t be surprised if Tobin was silent until the day she leaves at this point, if she’s honest.

It’s just what Tobin does.

She wouldn’t be surprised if that whispered goodbye the other day was the last one she ever hears from her and they never speak again.

Maybe she shouldn’t have asked at all, they were doing fine before it. She realizes when she meets Tyler’s blinking eyes that she’s ignored her for the last few minutes again, and gives her another awkward smile.

“ _Okay_ , I’m going to go see what Channing is up to,” Tyler starts to get up as she looks outside the patio doors behind her, and Christen stifles a laugh when she sees Channing meditating on the floor by the pool.

“How am I from this family?” Tyler falls back into her spot on the couch with a huff and Christen’s laugh is loud and free.

“Time to set the table,” she hears her dad's voice behind them and watches as he looks at his watch sadly, and she wants to tell him that she gets it. 

Maybe part of her almost wants to apologize for being the reason they lost Tobin, too. 

She gets up sadly instead, and promises to make this the best Thanksgiving she can. This is all that’s left of the family, and it has to be enough. 

“Come on, Ty,” she whispers with her hand out, pulling her sister up and signaling for Channing to come in, and they all set the table together quietly.

It’s their first Thanksgiving together at home since she had left, and it has to be better than them moping around the table.

It just has to be.

When she meets her dad’s eyes before they’re about to sit, she gives him a soft reassuring smile that he did well, and she says as much out loud as she hums at all the good smells. 

The fond smile it brings to his face tells her it worked, and it’s all that matters tonight. 

“Okay, let me just get the gravy and-” her dad starts but Tyler is already shoveling mashed potatoes into her mouth as he sighs and Channing and Christen laugh fondly.

He waves her off and allows it as he makes his way back to the kitchen and when she finds Channing’s smiling eyes, she’s feeling ready to eat.

The sound of the doorbell rings at the perfect time like a movie, and they all pause in their spots.

Christen practically slides across the floor in her socks, desperately hoping it’s not the UPS guy or something as she makes her way to the door.

It could be anybody with her luck, maybe someone with a clipboard that wants to talk about roofing or energy. Surely they’d wait until tomorrow for that, but this is Christen’s life, so today makes perfect sense. 

When she turns the corner and unlocks the front door, she’s praying to every power in the universe that it’s not someone with a clipboard as she takes a deep steadying breath.

When she opens the door, fully pretending she didn’t just slide her way here in a haste across the floor, she’s rewarded with a wet snout immediately and her eyes instantly feel wet.

_It’s her._

_And Nemo._

She’s thankful for Nemo as a distraction from it, hiding her eyes into his fur as she gives him his usual praises and rubs as she crouches for him. 

It doesn’t last long of course, he _is_ a dog, and it _does_ smell awfully good in the house. He’s moving across the floor as fast as she was before he’s long gone.

The sounds of her sisters and dad excited to see him fill the house and Christen is glad she has a moment away from them to take Tobin in without being judged for it.

She’s even happier for it when she realizes Tobin looks soft and sure waiting for her eyes in an Oxford shirt and she looks like a living and breathing daydream.

She had expected if Tobin was going to come here, it was going to be in a last minute haste. Maybe throwing on whatever she had and just barely making it to her house out of breath out of guilt. 

It’s just, it’s not that at all, Tobin looks like she knew she was coming here from the minute she had asked, cleaned up and perfect, and Christen wonders why she didn’t just let her know.

“You’re here,” Christen breathes as she takes in happy cinnamon eyes and shy hands holding a small orange pot with tin foil.

Tobin’s nod is confident, like it was never really a question at all, and it’s different than any other time Tobin has barely shown up when she needed her. 

It feels different. 

“I’m here.” Tobin confirms gently with a smile, her eyes firm on her own, and she clenches her jaw because she really doesn't even know what any of this means, but she knows she’s _here_ , and she decides she’ll let herself have today. 

She doesn’t know what comes after this or what happens when she leaves or what she’ll be left with, but she has today.

Everything else can matter tomorrow, but today, she’ll just let herself have today.

“I brought um.. sweet potatoes, too,” Tobin shrugs as she looks down at the pot in her hands, and Christen thinks she’s dreaming this whole thing, because Tobin is really not someone who cooks.

If she knew anything actually, she’d know to stay far away from these sweet potatoes, but it’s Tobin, so she’s going to eat half of them even if it kills her.

_They just might._

She remembers her mom always let Tobin choose a special ingredient to add with the marshmallows for the sweet potatoes. It was usually something easy that would work, pretzel bits or cinnamon sugar. 

She especially remembers the one year Tobin tried adding peanut butter much to her mom's demise. Christen ate it happily next to her as her mom hummed fake enjoyment, but the love sparkling in Tobin’s eyes was fully worth it. 

Even if Christen could never look at peanut butter the same. 

“Oh,” Christen offers her space to move inside as she remembers how to be a human again, and Tobin breathes out a laugh as she shuts the door behind her and locks it for her.

She thinks she’s probably looking a bit like she’s malfunctioned, not really knowing how to handle an interaction like this with her, but Tobin doesn’t seem to mind.

In fact, she doesn’t even seem to care, because she’s slowly offering her right arm in question and if Christen was malfunctioning before, well, she’s really broken now.

Her nose is quick to make its way into the soft material of Tobin’s shirt as she falls into her, and its slow and gentle, probably too gentle to even really be a hug at all. 

She isn’t sure why she’s being hugged, but she’s definitely not complaining as she takes in the comforting smell of coconut. She wonders if she can ask what shampoo this is or if that’s weird. 

_It’s probably weird._

She can feel Tobin’s right hand pushing their bodies together gently at the small of her back, her left arm occupied with holding the pot, and it’s overwhelming.

Even one handed, it’s overwhelming, apparently. She wonders if Tobin knows how overwhelming it is for her and wonders if it’s even close to the same thing for Tobin herself. 

She thinks about the last few years and decides, probably not. 

But maybe. 

It only gets worse when she not only feels, but _hears_ the soft kiss pressed into her cheek by soft pouty lips before she feels her step back. 

“Tobin,” her dad makes Tobin turn around luckily before Christen has to figure out how to look like she’s functioning again. She watches on as Tobin is brought into a small hug and her fathers smile is wide into her favorite head of hair.

When they’re walking back into the kitchen, Christen kindly takes the pot from Tobin’s hands with a thankful smile, and continues to walk with it behind them. 

“What’s in there?” Tyler gasps quietly, probably hoping it’s not what it is as Tobin and her dad find the table far in front of them.

“Sweet potatoes, and be nice,” Christen whispers back but Tyler is already grimacing as she lifts up the tin foil.

“It’s got m&m’s in it, Chris,” Tyler whispers in horror, and yeah, that is new, but it’s going to be good.

Tobin made them.

Christen shushes her quietly as they continue to walk to the table and if it’s a little too aggressive for the holidays well, Tyler started it. 

It’s surreal having them all together at dinner again, her dad talking basketball with Tobin while Christen sneaks food off her plate so she doesn’t have to reach across the table.

Tobin and Christen sit together on the same side across from her sisters, and Christen is thankful for it because she can feel Tobin’s warmth.

And when Tobin laughs just enough, she can feel her leg gently against her own, and it makes her want to sit here forever. 

She doesn’t remember feeling full when she was at the table, but then again, every time her elbow touched Tobin’s next to her, she didn’t really care what she was doing anymore as she continued eating.

It’s just, now she thinks she’s in an actual food coma on the couch as she listens to Tobin help her dad with dishes, and it really just proves all of them wrong.

Her dad can absolutely cook a mean Thanksgiving dinner. 

She’s somewhere between asleep and desperately trying not to be because Tobin is here, and she should be spending all the time she can with her. Her stomach is so full as she rubs it under her shirt, she’s totally useless to anything else, and she groans quietly. 

She imagines everyone else feels the same way because Channing and Tyler are absent in her ears as she listens to Tobin’s soft laugh and her dad's comforting voice.

She’s willing to bet they’re in their rooms in a deep sleep by now.

The image in her mind of Tobin’s one dimple poking out at the table feels almost too good to be true, and it only furthers her almost sleep state.

There’s an overwhelming feeling of safety when Tobin is in her home, and just hearing her voice echo off the walls is a lullaby in itself. She thinks of all the times she fell asleep just like this on the couch but in Tobin’s lap when she’d come over after practice. 

She doesn’t get to fall too deep before she feels a large ball of fur climb on top of her and nestle into the tiny space between her body and the couch cushions. She chuckles into the soft fur, because there’s really nothing else to do but accept it.

He’s far too big for the spot, but she scoots back to make room for him as he falls into it, and he cuddles like an absolute champion, and she can only hope he does this to Tobin every night as she imagines them both here. 

And it’s the last thought she has before her eyes close and her body falls deep into a warm sleep.

  
∞

  
She slowly wakes to the same warmth at her side and a cold nose in her neck, her chin resting by soft floppy ears and small snoring noises to match it all.

Her barely opened eyes find a dark blue version of her living room, and she feels like the sleep she was in was so deep she’s been out for a week. If there’s drool dripping down the side of her cheek, well, that must be someone else’s, probably Nemo’s. 

She can see the illuminated movements of the water from the pool on the ceiling, and the low lights from the kitchen are easy on her eyes. It’s quiet in the house, aside from Nemo snoring into her side, and she figures everyone must still be sleeping after the long day. 

She wonders if Nemo’s smaller plate took him out too as he cuddles into her side, and she slowly peels herself off of him with a kiss and stretches with a yawn. 

She sees Tobin outside through the backdoors with Channing and she smiles. Tobin looks like she’s paying attention to a teacher as she listens to her by the pool with her shoes off, and she wonders what they could be talking about.

It's most likely meditation related, she’s sure, but Tobin isn’t the type, she isn’t the type at all. 

She decides to save her.

“She’s alive,” Channing smiles, “once you started drooling we thought you were calling it a night.” 

Christen grimaces at that, she wouldn’t be surprised if there’s one or two pictures that will be used as blackmail by Tyler soon enough. 

“It was almost death by lasagna,” Tobin whispers dramatically, “what a way to go.” 

“Funny,” Christen sits in between them, putting her feet in the water, “not everyone is made like a dump truck like you.” 

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Tobin criticizes, to which Christen hums sarcastically. Channing’s soft laugh rings through their ears as she moves to get up.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” Channing squeezes Christen’s shoulder and pats Tobin’s head goodnight, just like she’d do when they were younger. 

It’s a pretty night, the nighttime creatures just starting to come out as the lights around the patio and pool illuminate the world around them. The sound of the pool is faint, but it’s there, and it’s as soothing as a waterfall with the clear air of the night working through her nose. 

“You know..” Tobin starts softly, bringing Christen back to life. She watches her attentively, taking in the one less button buttoned on her shirt and the water that hit her pant leg that isn’t rolled high enough.

”Nemo usually likes everyone..” Christen‘s eyebrows move together confused as she listens on. “but it’s.. I don’t know, he seems to like you in a different way,” Tobin shrugs like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. 

Christen shys away from her eyes, a small nod is the only real response, but she can feel Tobin hasn’t shifted her eyes away at all, and she feels like she’s under a spotlight. 

She wonders why it matters, if Nemo likes her or not, if he greets her first, or if she’s his first sleep buddy choice. It doesn’t have to matter that it seems like Nemo and Christen have a different bond than most. 

It doesn’t matter. 

Tobin doesn’t need to know why, it’s just between her and Nemo, isn’t it?

“He’s a good boy,” she shrugs, it’s the best response she can come up with, and one she knows Tobin will take easily, because he is a good boy, he’s the best boy. 

The silence around them is still comfortable, but it’s different, and Christen doesn’t like it, so she decides to try.

“Thank you for coming today,” she smiles, moving her shoulder softly into Tobin’s, and Tobin finds her eyes again, and she gives her a soft smile back. Unfortunately, Christen knows this look, and she’s about to regret thanking her.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Tobin grins her annoying grin, and Christen sighs because she knows something is coming. 

“Plus,” here it comes, “your sisters still pretty hot,” she shrugs.

Christen's annoyed gasp is mixed with an offending scowl, and even she can’t prepare for some of the things that come out of Tobin’s mouth. She hums at the childish grin on Tobin’s lips, and her next move is pretty easy, if she does say so herself.

It’s said to annoy her lightly, and she knows that, but it doesn’t mean she’s going to let it go. 

“You know what I think is hot?” Christen asks as she leans closer, Tobin hums waiting happily for her reply, but she doesn’t get one, not a verbal one anyway. 

Tobin’s in the pool faster than Christen can really blink, but she gives her credit for at least trying to take her with her, Christen’s just too smart for that.

By the time Tobin comes up with a shaking breath at her new body temperature, Christen is already up and out of arm's reach laughing. 

“So,” Tobin brings herself to the wall to get closer as she rubs the water out of her eyes and rests on the edge, “the answer was me?” 

“What?” Christen laughs curiously. Tobin doesn’t ask again, though, she just tries to reach Christen’s legs with her nose scrunched in focus by jumping as high as she can in the water, but Christen is too far back as she giggles. 

“Okay, I forfeit,” Tobin surrenders tiredly with an exhausted smile and her chin on the edge of the pool.

Christen watches as Tobin starts to unbutton her soaked shirt further, and she thinks maybe she didn’t think this whole thing through. 

“Will you at least get me a towel?” Tobin pouts, and yeah, Christen should at least do that, if she could look away.

She compromises and brings herself into the house to find one, and if she grabs the fluffiest and warmest one she can find, well Tobin won’t know that. 

When she makes it back outside, Tobin is closer to the stairs now, her shirt unbuttoned fully but still on and reaching for the towel as Christen tries not to look at all the skin on display. 

It’s not hard to realize when she’s made a mistake. 

Tobin entirely misses the towel and decides Christen’s arm would be of much better use when she’s close enough, and Christen curses at herself for letting her guard down. 

“Tobin!”

“You did it first,” Tobin laughs as she clears the water out of her eyes and catches her breath from being surprised and encased under water. She can still stand in this part, and she’s thankful for that, at least. 

“Yeah, but _you_ started it,” Christen reasons with a splash towards Tobin as she makes her way to the stairs slowly. 

Tobin wouldn’t let that happen though, would she.

She feels her arms strong and quick, pulling her right back in, and Christen is helpless as her feet are too slow underwater where she can’t kick the floor. 

“Tobin!” She tries to be serious but her laugh is too quick past her lips. 

“Swim with me,” Tobin whispers through a smile in her ear, “you’re already here.”

“I don’t like the deep end,” Christen complains, putting little effort into trying to kick her legs the opposite direction, but Tobin is still swimming strongly forward. 

She can swim, she just doesn’t like it, not alone. 

Christen has nothing left to do but grab onto her neck to stay afloat, and maybe rest her wet cheek against her own.

“I’ve got you,” Tobin chuckles as she grabs onto the corner of the pool at the deepest end, and Christen is thankful for it. She twists around to grab the same edge and Tobin is nice enough to let her, her grip still just as strong, and Christen feels warm in a cool swimming pool even in the chill of the night.

“Do you remember the last Thanksgiving you spent here?” Christen whispers with an easy smile, her arm still wrapped around Tobin’s neck and her body still doing the same.

They’re close, too close really, but she doesn’t care, it’s Thanksgiving.

“I do,” Tobin's warm breath hits her lips, and Christen can see the water fall down from her eyelashes, and it’s pretty, it’s really pretty. “I’ve never seen your mom so drunk in my life,” Tobin laughs. 

Christen’s laugh is loud and free into the night above them, and Tobin breathes a laugh into her neck eventually as they continue thinking about it. She knows they’re thinking the same thing. 

Her mom had trusted her dad with the ham and it ended with an emergency run to 3 stores by the time she finally made it home to a living room of confused teenagers and a remorseful husband. 

The laughter dies off from Christen first, and is quickly turning into sadness, the same way it always does when she’s mentioned. 

The thought of never having another mishap like it again feels like a thousand knives in her gut. If she holds on just a little tighter to Tobin, well, she knows she doesn't mind. 

She isn’t exactly sure how they got here, Tobin trapping her between the wall and her warm body, holding onto each other, but she knows she’s here and she can’t undo it. 

She can’t not feel what she’s already felt, so she lets herself have this one, closing her eyes where her forehead has inevitably fallen to its home on Tobin’s.

It’s too long of a moment to even be called a moment, but she doesn’t care. 

It’s Thanksgiving.

She tries to separate them just a little, for the sake of at least trying with her hand on her chest, but she gets tangled into her necklace, and mumbles a soft apology before Tobin smiles and fixes it.

Christen goes to hold the cross between her fingers after, and because she can’t help herself, asks something she’s been wondering. 

“Do you still believe the same?” There’s not an ounce of judgement in it, nothing but soft curiosity and maybe a tinge of hope that she does. 

Maybe a tinge of fear that she’s lost it.

She’s never fully understood the faith Tobin had, it’s a different type than the spiritual take Christen and her dad have always had. Tobin was more like her mom in that way, always asking questions and seeking answers from a specific place. 

“I do,” Tobin whispers with not an ounce of question in her beliefs, and Christen smiles at the newfound information that it’s only gotten stronger as she traces the cross with her fingertips. 

“I thought I had lost him a few times, though,” Tobin admits softly between them, the air around them seemingly keeping her secrets safe. “When your mom..” 

Christen swallows with a nod, understanding everything she doesn’t have to say.

“What changed?” Christen wonders, moving her fingers with the shape of the cross still, her eyes firm on it, as if everything is inside of it.

“I remembered all the good things he gave me,” she shrugs like it’s just that simple, but it can’t be.

It definitely can’t be, because if there’s anybody in this world that was given hell on earth, it was Tobin. She shouldn’t do it, not when she knows how hard of a topic it is for her, but she does it anyway, not being able to let it go.

“The childhood from hell and the wrong soulmate?” 

It’s meant to be taken lighter than she can tell it is, she even furrowed her eyebrow with a small almost humorous smile to get it right, but Tobin looks like the life Christen just painted was far from hers. 

But it really wasn’t.

It was actually pretty spot on.

God gave Tobin a drunk father that practically hated her and a dead mom. Two dead moms, if she really thinks about it. Then to top it all of, Tobin got stuck with a soulmate she didn’t want enough to actually try. 

The silence that moves past them is charged, and Christen is starting to feel like she should just apologize now, but Tobin hasn’t let go of her, so she waits it out.

“Is that how you see my life?” Tobin asks, and it’s not said sarcastically or with any malice, and Christen doesn’t know how to answer, so she doesn’t. 

“I don’t know..” Tobin pauses for a moment, “I don’t look at my life like that, I see more nights under blankets with you than I do hiding under my bed alone.” She finishes with a serious look in her eyes, and Christen swallows down hot tears at the thought of it all.

She doesn’t understand how that can possibly be, but maybe she wasn’t meant to. 

“God also gave me you,” Tobin whispers sadly, almost as if she can’t believe it’s not obvious, like she can’t believe Christen can’t understand that. 

Maybe in another life she wouldn’t feel a small pang of anger at the statement, but here she is. 

“But you didn’t want me,” Christen’s response is quick and dry.

The back of her neck is starting a familiar heat. She lays Tobin’s cross back down onto her chest and goes to move out of her grasp, but Tobin is quick to hold her steady with a soft hand on her jaw, making her look at her. 

“You don’t believe that,” there’s a fire in Tobin’s eyes that burns deep into her chest, “I know you don’t believe that.”

The fire in Tobin’s eyes is strong, like there’s no use in lying. She nods in defeat instead, because she knows it’s not exactly that simple. Tobin wants her in some way, just probably not enough. How much can you want someone if your desire to be with them doesn’t outweigh everything else. 

She can’t imagine anything this world would throw at her that would keep her away from Tobin if it was up to her. It should be the same for Tobin if she wanted her enough.

She could swim away and let this be it, maybe take a day of space and continue whatever they’re doing until she leaves, but she can’t. They’re too close to talking about it all for her to leave it like this.

Even if it’s Thanksgiving. 

She relaxes back into her grip, and brings herself even further into her as she rests her head against her own, and Tobin allows it, and it’s all that matters. 

She’s not sure what to ask, which is probably why she’s been so stuck in this place of pretending they don’t have to talk about anything. There’s so much to ask and not enough at the same time, and she has no idea how to form any actual words. 

She decides to start off with a thought she’s had since she started thinking about the holidays, and reluctantly moves herself back against the pool wall. Tobin still has her left arm around her and her right against the wall, and it’s close enough that she lets out a deep sigh before asking. 

“After this..” she starts, pausing to figure out how to word it properly. “When I leave.. will we- what happens?” Tobin shrugs slowly at the question, her eyes still on her own, and the fact that she isn’t shying away is important, it’s really important.

“Whatever you want to happen,” Tobin whispers honestly, Christen can see it in her eyes, and the answer is comforting, the fact that she may not have to live without her forever.

It may be different than what she had always wanted, but it’s still Tobin, she’ll still have Tobin. 

It sort of changes everything, if she can have Tobin as a friend, maybe she doesn’t need anything else. Maybe she doesn’t need to die with a ring on her finger for life to be worth living. 

“So, you can come here for the holidays still?” The tears are heavy in her eyes, and she’s desperately trying not to guilt her into anything, because maybe that’s why they’re even in this mess. It’s just, she can’t imagine never spending a Christmas or a Thanksgiving with her ever again. 

“Yeah..” Tobin nods, “I can do that.” 

She wants to say she just needs her around and she’ll be happy, but she doesn’t, because this is where she went wrong the first time. She had pushed her for years into something she wasn’t ready for, and she won’t do it again, so she nods instead. 

“Whenever you want to come..” Christen smiles softly, her hand softly rubbing at the back of Tobin’s neck. “I want you to be able to.” Tobin nods, probably feeling much better about the way she worded it this time.

It’s up to Tobin. 

She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.

“Can I call you sometimes?” Christen whispers, “like.. when something happens?” Tobin smiles softly back at her with a chuckle.

“Whenever you want you can,” Tobin nods happily. 

“And what about Nemo?”

“Hm?” Tobin moves her head to the side, trying to figure out what she means. “You want weekends or something?” 

Christen laughs because no, she doesn’t want joint custody of Tobin’s dog, but she does want pictures and videos whenever Tobin will send them, but before she can clarify, Tobin is speaking again. 

“He might celebrate Hanukkah,” Tobin shrugs, “just so you know.” Christen blows out a laugh and pulls Tobin further into her, if not just for a little more warmth to shield her from the night. 

Or maybe she just likes to be against her, why does it matter. 

“He’s Jewish?” Christen wonders curiously, mostly wondering how she’s figured that out.

“I don’t know, he never answers me when I ask,” Tobin looks annoyed at the prospect of Nemo ignoring her, and Christen laughs into her neck as she pulls her even closer naturally as her chest moves with more laughter. 

“I don’t know if they celebrate Christmas the same overseas,” mumbles into her ear, her hand slowly moving through Tobin’s wet hair at the base of her neck. 

She hears Tobin hum, and feels her trap her body even closer against the wall, and she feels so warm she forgets the water is even around them. 

“You could celebrate the same still,” Tobin whispers, and yeah, she could celebrate wherever she is. 

“You’ll come home for that anyway though, won’t you?” Christen nods against her head, feeling tired by the prospect of ever leaving this spot right here. 

“Yeah,” snuggles closer into her, as if its even possible to get closer. “I’ll come home for that.” 

Tobin holds her just a tad tighter before she pulls back to bring their foreheads together, but all Christen can feel is the arm around her back pulling her in as if she’s trying to get away.

She’s not, she’s definitely not. 

“With him?” Tobin whispers the question so soft and sad it reminds her of the whispered secrets they shared under blankets as kids. 

It especially reminds her of the painful ones, the things that would bring Tobin to discreet tears, the things that would stick with Christen forever. 

She doesn’t quite understand what goes through Tobin’s mind, but she doesn’t have to, she can hear the pain in the question, and she answers with an answer she didn’t even realize she knew yet out loud. 

“No..” Christen shakes her head against hers, “I don’t think so.” She doesn’t elaborate, mostly because she feels like she can’t. 

She doesn’t know when she finally decided this in her heart, but apparently she has. 

Sam won’t ever be coming home with her, not like that. 

Tobin is looking at her like she just told her a secret that changes the whole world, and maybe it makes sense that she didn’t know.

Christen wasn’t even sure until it just came out of her mouth.

Christen had told her she met someone, that she wanted to move on, she left out the part where she was here because Sam is the one who encouraged her to come here to figure it all out since she had given up. 

There was a chance of course, that she could make enough room in her heart to love him in a way that he deserved if she could get past it, but they knew that was small chance. 

Surely that would have been useless to say out loud to Tobin when they met this past summer. Tobin didn’t need to know the details, she just needed to know Christen wanted to make peace with her and stop the burning. 

She knows the alternative to not being able to move on was going to stay with someone who understood what it was like to be her. To be in a place where nobody knows them and they can pretend they’re two different people with no past at all, two best friends with no soulmates. 

A little sad, but it would work. 

She realizes she’ll have to think about it again later when she sees the frantic look on Tobin’s face. 

“You never came home,” Tobin creates more space between them than Christen is willing to give up, but she doesn’t have a choice. “You left and never came home.” 

Tobin says it like she’s accusing her of something and Christen feels frozen with confusion. 

“Yes, I know that,” Christen nods, puzzled as to why that even needed to be said. 

She missed all of the holidays and moments with her family because it was too hard to come home to a place where her mother and the love of her life were once vibrant and around, and both spaces are vacant now. 

Tobin looks like she has novels written on the topic, so Christen waits for an explanation as to why they’re talking about it. She waits, and nothing leaves Tobin’s lips, and it’s cold now.

The water is absolutely freezing now, and Tobin has moved too far away, and she doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be able to stay here. 

She doesn’t even know what Tobin is trying to figure out as she continues to stare at her perplexed, but she remains patient. 

She’s half expecting Tobin to just swim away and never come back, but she’s still here, so she waits. She waits and she watches patiently as Tobin clearly is trying to figure something out, and she wants to help her, but she can’t until she knows what she needs. 

So she just waits, that is, until she feels herself drop just the slightest as she holds onto the wall and watches Tobin swim away. 

“Tobin!” Christen growls, “what are you- okay, I guess I’ll just swim back on my own, don’t worry!” She huffs into the wall as she maneuvers herself around it until she feels the floor of the pool again.

When she makes it to the stairs Tobin is already getting her shoes on, and Christen is rolling her eyes because why can’t they just have one normal night together. 

“Okay, you can’t go home like that, that’s ridiculous,” she huffs as she watches Tobin pull her shoes on, getting them soaking wet in the process. She’s entirely soaked and dripping but looks like she’s about to just start walking away. 

_What did she even say to make Tobin frantic like this?  
_

“Why didn’t you come home then?” 

“What?” Christen distractedly asks trying to peel the wet shirt from her own skin that’s stuck like glue. 

“Christen,” she looks up at the use of her full first name, and meets wild desperate eyes. “Why didn’t you come back home?” 

“I was in school, my family visited me, what did I have to come back here for?” Christen answers annoyed at the thought of having to explain it out loud like it’s not obvious, but Tobin looks more upset by each word. 

_Why is she so fixated on this?_

“What about me?” Tobin squeaks angrily, and Christen thinks she has to be on a TV show at this point as she stands frozen with startled confusion, but Tobin continues ahead of her. 

It’s not impossible that she hit her head surfing or is just really forgetful, but Tobin forgetting the way she had left her four years ago seems a tad unreasonable.

There’s this impossibly hot red anger that overtakes her with Tobin pretending she doesn’t remember what she did and it has her falling right into it. 

“I must have missed that part of the morning on my birthday when you told me I should come visit,” Christen spits out like fire. “Oh, wait.” She pretends to suddenly realize Tobin up and left before she had ever woken up. 

“You don’t understand,” Tobin shakes her head furiously with her hands clenching tightly at the bottom of her dripping shirt. “I didn’t- I know I made a mess but _you never came home_ ,” Tobin frantically explains. 

“You never came back,” Tobin makes sure to remind her one more time just as fiercely as if Christen didn’t hear her the first twenty times. “I thought- I thought you were good, that you didn’t want to come home because you were good there.” 

“I don’t understand,” Christen scoffs outraged and confused as she’s ever been. “ _You_ wanted me to come home?” Christen challenges with dripping sarcasm. “After you fucked me and then left me like some stranger?”

It’s a vulgar word choice to explain what happened, but she’s confused and angry at the tone. 

What Tobin did wasn’t that simple, she knows it wasn’t, but her anger is clouding her judgment. It’s just, the thought of Tobin downplaying what she did makes her insides burn, and she loses sight of anything else.

She figures this is why they should have talked about it long before this in a calmer way, but it’s too late for that now.

As expected, the accusation has Tobin looking the angriest she’s ever seen her, and she doesn’t feel bad at all. She might later, but she doesn’t now. Nothing feels fair right now. 

Apparently none of that will matter anyway, since they’re interrupted with the sound of her sisters voice.

“Um..” Tyler’s voice brings them both back down to earth and to the open patio door with a hand holding two towels, “it looked like you guys needed towels.” 

Christen scoffs into her hands with an embarrassed huff at the thought of her sister hearing what she said. She figures yeah, this is sort of just how the night is going. 

To make matters even worse, the sound of Nemo’s collar softly jingles as he makes his way protectively through the back door to stand between them confused.

She thinks maybe, just maybe, Nemo doesn’t know who to go to for a second, but in the end, he softly pads towards the right human. 

“I’m good, thanks,” is all Tobin says before she’s squish squashing in her wet shoes towards the gate to the side of the house with Nemo, and Christen doesn’t even know what she’s supposed to do about it. 

Any of it. 

When she meets Tyler’s frozen awkward eyes and high eyebrows, she sighs tiredly, and the guilt starts to set in.

_What even just happened?_  
  
  


  
  



	11. Shipwreck.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: past mentions of abuse/suicidal thoughts for this one.

She’s angry. 

Of course she’s angry, and what makes her even angrier is the fact that Tobin is probably angry at _her_. 

It’s so backwards to her, she knows she’s made mistakes along the way, she knows she pushed Tobin a little too much when she wasn’t ready in high school.

She knows she’s said some things she shouldn’t have since she’s been home, she knows. 

She’s made tons of mistakes, she knows it and she owns it, at least in her own mind, but Tobin?

Tobin offered her the world one night just to take it away before the sun came up, and she had the nerve to be mad at _her_ because she didn’t come home? 

She wonders if Tobin expected her to come back and have a tea party the following Tuesday instead. 

So she’s hurt, and she’s confused, but most of all, she’s angry. 

There’s just one problem with being angry on the first day of December. 

“Alright Press Pack!” Her dad’s voice is far too loud this early in the morning. “Are we ready for operation decoration?” 

Christen blinks silently on the kitchen stool across from Tyler as the silence continues to fill the room. At the very least, she watches Channing smile into her mug of tea, and she hopes it’s enough of a response. 

“Okay,” he puts both of his hands in front of him sternly, and Christen realizes quickly that no, it wasn’t enough of a response. “I said.. who’s ready for operation decoration?”

Christen watches Tyler raise her hand slowly with a fake smile plastered on her face, and she decides to mimic the movement quickly before he can ask again. 

“Guys,” he sighs as she watches his entire body deflate. “It’s Christmas.”

“It’s December first,” Tyler corrects him around a spoonful of cereal she’s finally gone back to eating. 

“It’s _Christmas_ first.”

“That’s not a thing, but if it is a thing.. we should celebrate my birthday month like that, too.” Tyler smiles happily, clearly pleased with her own idea as her dad ignores it and moves on. 

His single clap before he starts to speak again can only be described as a high school cheerleaders, and Christen knows it’s going to be a long morning.

“Okay, I’m going to go get the Christmas boxes from the garage. Chan, you’re with me outside.” He starts to direct them as if they’re about to play a scrimmage. “Ty, Chris, start inside and don’t forget to put the elf above momma’s stocking and floof the stockings before you put them up.” 

_He wants her to do what to the stockings?_

She’d ask, really she would, if he wasn’t already halfway out the front door with Channing trailing behind him with a fond smile. 

Tyler sends her a shrug before she continues with her cereal and Christen huffs on the day she’s supposed to be feeling joy. 

She didn’t exactly love decorating on this day every year, but she did love the part where she watched the people she loved decorating. 

Tobin used to keep her up around this time of year with dreams of decorating her little blue home with big bright lights just like Christen’s dad.

Christen didn’t need her to tell her that considering she watched Tobin attentively help her dad with the decorations most years. Her dad probably loved it even more than Tobin did now that she thinks about it.

_Tobin isn’t here for it this year, though._

Nope, she’s not here at all, because Tobin is angry at her for not coming home. Christen scoffs angrily at the reminder out loud and Tyler raises her eyebrows at her.

“Tobs is still in the doghouse then?” 

“In the what?” Christen huffs, not really caring anyway as she gets water from the fridge. 

“It’s been days, aren’t you guys like.. you know, over it?”

“Why don’t you worry about _floofing_ the stockings instead,” Christen fumes, not wanting to hear an opinion she didn’t ask for.

_What does Tyler know anyway?_

Tyler rolls her eyes and continues eating, but Christen just wants to know one thing. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” 

“Hm?” Tyler hums curiously, chewing on her last bit of cereal. 

“That I’m your sister and you’re not on my side?” 

“Who said I’m not on your-“

“You did,” Christen reminds her, “last night, you said I was hard on her.” 

“I think you can be hard on her sometimes, I didn’t say I was on her side,” Tyler sighs, “I’m not even on a side.” 

Christen shrugs and lets a silent moment pass.

“You don’t understand,” Christen states calmly, because she doesn’t, how could she?

“I know, I’m sorry,” Tyler admits softly. “I just.. maybe it’s a soft spot or something, but I just always think of when she was little.” 

Tyler is older than them by a few years, and she knows she always had a protective big sister vibe, she can understand that, but how does that travel to adult years?

“What about it?” Christen asks genuinely curious as to what the smaller version of Tobin has to do with it. Tyler looks at her just the slightest bit confused by the question, and she doesn’t know why, but she doesn’t like it. 

“Don’t you remember how stubborn she was?” Tyler asks and Christen is quick to blink and nod her head, because how could she forget. 

“She was always so serious about making everyone believe she was so brave and strong.. and she was, but.. I think sometimes she was so good at it, we would forget how bad it was for her when she had to go home.” Christen nods sadly, taking it in. 

“I just always think of that,” Tyler shrugs, “she’s like a squirrel hiding nuts or something.” Christen blinks at the dumb analogy, but takes it in all the same.

Whatever, squirrel or not, she’s still mad. 

  
∞  
  


After almost an hour of indoor decorating, she’s about to call it a day, because this is really all they need.

This isn’t the Christmas freaking village, it’s a place where she eats cereal in slippers and sleeps on the couch after a movie.

She’s opening the last box of decorations, and the closest thing she’s had to a smile all day breaks out when she sees her stocking. 

She remembers making this one at age six, and her parents kept it safe all these years.

She moves her finger across her name written with red glitter pen, and the memories wash over her like they’ve waited all year to be remembered. 

When she gets all five of them out and lays them on the table, she’s left with only one more in the box. 

She feels the soft material under her fingers, a pretty deep blue color with baby blue and orange sharks, just like she remembered. 

_“What do I do with it?” Tobin asks with the same confused smile she had years ago holding a brand new Finding Nemo lunch box._

_They’re eleven now, and they have so many memories between them already, but it still feels like it was yesterday._

_Christen watches on with soft attentive eyes from her stool at the kitchen island across from them._

_“It goes above the fireplace, baby.” She watches her mom pepper loud kisses across Tobin’s cheek annoyingly as the latter grins quietly eyeing the stocking in her hand._

_They had just finished eating breakfast on Christmas Eve, chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream Santa hats._

_Tobin smiling chocolate smiles and Christen taking each one in, because somebody needs to remember them, she’s sure of it._

_Her sisters are watching TV in the living room as her mom stands beside Tobin who’s sitting in her stool, and Christen sips her milk with a muted smile as she watches it all unfold._

_The stocking is a pretty ocean blue with orange and baby blue sharks on it, and it’s so Tobin, she can’t believe anybody else would even be allowed to buy it._

_Her dad hums happily into his coffee where he leans against the counter and watches them, and Christen can’t remember ever being this excited for Christmas.  
_

_Tobin is allowed to sleep over, she’s going to wake up with them and open her presents, she’s going to make Christmas cookies and decorate them._

_She’s going to drink hot chocolate and watch Christmas movies until they can’t take it anymore, and they’re going to have so many games to play after they get their presents._

_She can’t wait for it all._

_She gets to watch The Grinch with her favorite person in the whole world the day before her favorite day of the year._

_Christen had even been allowed to pick something out for Tobin by herself and her mom even let her wrap it on her own.  
_

_It’s a rock painting kit, and she can’t wait for Tobin to see it, she knows she’ll love it._

_Her parents wouldn’t tell her what’s in Tobin’s secret boxes, apparently they think Christen is going to tell her, and maybe they’re right, she can’t even hold her own surprise in.  
_

_Her mom made sure to whisper ‘sea puzzles’ before she left and Christen grinned at knowing at least one thing she got._

_She knows she’ll be the best at it, too._

_“Go on then, go put it up so Santa can fill it tomorrow,” her dad requests quietly as Christen rolls her eyes.  
_

_They already know Santa isn’t real, but she watches Tobin swallow her last bite and move across the room determined, anyway._

_The image of Tobin standing in the living room with a dopey grin next to her new stocking on the fireplace sticks onto her heart with super glue._

_And it’s never falling off._

She’s still mad. 

Of course she’s still mad. 

But Tobin should be here.

So she takes her phone out, and swallows her pride, and she offers an olive branch she knows she can’t deny.

She sends a picture of Tobin’s stocking, with no words attached, but she knows she’ll get it.

It’s her stocking to put up, it’s just up to her if she wants to or not. 

She doesn’t respond for hours, and Christen doesn’t care, she tells herself the same thing she had years ago.

If Tobin doesn’t want to be here, then she doesn’t want her here.

She just wishes she believed it.

They’re watching a movie, scattered across the living room quietly doing their own things surrounded by Christmas decorations, and it’s nice. 

It’s nice to be in this atmosphere, the house always feels like home, but it tends to get even warmer and comfier with the pretty decorations lining the fireplace and shelves. 

She watches as Tyler groans quietly in the recliner with her phone, clearly playing some game as Channing ignores her and happily watches the movie. 

It can still be a good Christmas, she just has to be stronger. She can’t waste another one being sad, not after she’s watched her dad squeal like a child all day over Christmas lights. 

She can make this a good Christmas. 

She’s thinking as much when her dad finally speaks up softly with words that he should have asked hours ago. 

“Did you talk to Tobin today?” 

“No..” Christen shakes her head soft and casual, wondering why he’d be asking. “Why?”

“It’s nothing, I had texted her earlier for decorating but..” he trails off with a sad shrug, and Christen immediately stills. “I bet she’s working by now.” 

She watches him check his watch as if to make sure, and yeah, she guesses she could be off to work by now, but Christen knows something really important. 

_Tobin would never ignore her dad._

She ignored the stocking olive branch, and that was enough to have an eyebrow shoot up, but duping it down to her just being that angry was easy. 

This isn’t nearly as easy.

Tobin doesn’t like to be coddled, she doesn’t like to be checked on or evaluated, she doesn’t like any of it, and she gets it.

She just wishes the dramatic side of her brain got it, because she’s playing every bad scenario known to man. 

Surely, nothing could have happened to Tobin.

It’s Tobin.

It’s her Tobin. 

She thinks about the similar thought she had growing up about her mom and her heart sinks quick and deep. She can’t possibly be panicking over a couple days of silence after four years of it. 

_She’s fine._

She’s definitely fine, there’s no logical reason to believe that the person who disappears every three seconds naturally isn’t fine. 

She can’t call her without seeming like she’s refusing to give her space and she can’t text her seriously asking if she’s okay without seeming like she’s babying her. 

_And plus, she’s fine._

Maybe she could show up..

_No._

Well, maybe.

Maybe she could show up and make a casual excuse.. like her oil light, it _has_ been turning on when she knows nothing is wrong. Tobin will blink in judgment and fix it, she knows she will, and most of all, she’ll know she’s okay.

_Because she’s totally okay._

“I’m going to get pizza,” Christen announces as she moves off the couch to grab her keys. The room is silent with muted surprise but thankfully they don’t question it. 

“Extra pepperoni,” Tyler calls out and Christen huffs in her mind, this is not the time for pepperoni portions.

Right, so, her oil light, it totally goes on sometimes, sometimes it blinks, like once a year or something.

That could be normal actually now that she thinks about it.

She doesn’t know, usually her dad handles it or during college, Sam did but.. 

Right, so her oil light is totally giving her problems.

Like, a hundred times a year or something and she was just wondering if Tobin knew anything about it. 

She makes her way down the quiet back roads, the ocean coming in and out of view in between homes, and Tobin is totally okay. 

Maybe a little angry, but okay, they can work on the irrational anger because Christen did nothing wrong, as long as she’s okay. 

Except, when she passes Tobin’s street, it’s not okay, is it? 

Her car is in front, and she should definitely be at work, but maybe she’s late, or maybe she’s sick.

Christen has an unsettling feeling in her stomach, and this is so dumb. All Tobin had to do was just text one of them, just put her read receipts on or something, just communicate in some way.

Now, she has Christen scrambling like a nervous chicken, and this is shit. 

She shuts her car door after she parks behind her with a loud huff, because all she had to do was just give them something. Now she’s at her house showing up like a worried mother hen and she decides she doesn’t even care what it looks like, this is on Tobin. 

She knocks on her door, twice to be exact, but nothing. 

She can see the shades moving in the front window, and she hates the sight, because a little wet nose comes into view every few jumps.

She wishes she could tell Nemo it’s just her and that it’s okay, that she loves him and she wants to know what Tobin is up to. He just doesn’t have thumbs and he won’t open the door, is the only issue. 

This absolutely sucks. 

She knocks again, and before she can call Tobin and leave a frustrated and nervous voicemail, she hears her footsteps before she even sees her. 

She breathes a quiet sigh of relief when she finds her walking up her walkway. Her head is down and her hands are deep in her joggers, but she’s here and she’s alive.

Christen secretly tells her heart it’s okay to continue beating now.

She hasn’t noticed her yet with her eyes firmly on the ground in front of her as she very slowly makes her way closer.

It looks like she just took a walk, and it reminds Christen she’s probably in a quiet space right now, and she shouldn’t startle her. 

“Hey,” Christen says it as softly as she can, and it works, maybe a little too well because Tobin looks up at her for just barely a second and looks back down like nothing even happened as she continues walking towards the door. 

“Sorry, I- um..” she starts feeling stupid with a hand scratching the back of her head but stops as soon as Tobin gets close enough that she can see her red cheeks that she knows is from crying. 

Just like when she was little, Tobin’s little nose and small cheeks were as bright as could be when tears were involved, and Christen’s heart twists painfully in her chest at the thought. 

The sight was hard enough as kids, but as adults, she can’t get away with coddling her the same as adults, she imagines. 

_But God, does she want to._

“What happened?” Christen pleads softly, watching carefully as Tobin struggles to get her key into the door, visibly lethargic. 

“Tobs,” she tries even softer, steadying her hand with her own to twist the key and trying desperately to find her downcast eyes. “What is it, huh?” She whispers. 

She doesn’t get an answer, and there’s no time to think about anything, so she instinctively brings her right arm under Tobin’s to secure her.

She keeps just a bit of space, just in case, just in case Tobin needs it, but she just wants to make sure she’s safe, that she can stay up on her own. 

_She looks so weak._

She so desperately wants to wrap around her and rub soothing circles at the space above her heart, just like her mom used to do for Tobin when she was upset, but she can’t. 

Not yet, not unless she knows it’s okay. 

“What happened?” She tries again, still soft but firmer in her ear, trying to soothe her as she holds onto her loosely. 

“S’okay,” Tobin mumbles, “I’m okay.” Christen watches on desperately waiting for an answer as she watches her open the door weakly and break out of her weak hold. 

Christen let’s her go. 

_What else can she do?_

Tobin misses the hook for her keys entirely, and they land somewhere on the floor carelessly, and Christen’s heart aches painfully at the sight of it.

She doesn’t know what’s wrong, and she repeats the question over and over in her head, like Tobin can answer her mentally or something.

Maybe it’s a work thing, maybe she quit or maybe the neighbors kept her up last night, maybe she’s just tired. 

She doesn’t know.

_Maybe it’s just a bad day._

She remembers Tobin’s bad days were always a little different than hers, Tobin always wanting to be left alone but not too far, not if the blanket had anything to say about it. 

She was quick to bring them into the safe space, Christen waiting patient and quiet while Tobin sniffled and figured it out on her own. 

She wonders if she still handles it the same way now. 

Naturally, Christen follows her, of course she follows her, picking up the keys and putting them on the hook behind her before she shuts the front door for her. Tobin is already starting down the hallway slowly, not a single care for her surroundings.

She hears Nemo’s collar and soft quiet cries as he follows Tobin protectively without even greeting Christen at all, and she gets it, she really gets it, she’s not mad at all. 

_Not even a little bit._

She follows them and her legs feel like jelly the whole walk behind her with the knowledge that she can’t really do anything to help.

They still keep her up, though, and she’s thankful for it.

When she turns the corner into her room, Tobin is already face down on her bed, one leg mostly off the mattress and her shoes still on. 

She’s alive, she knows she’s alive, she just saw her walking, but God, does she look dead. She looks completely at a loss of her body, like she’s not even there, and Christen rubs at her tears that have slipped down angrily in the doorway.

_This isn’t the time for her own nonsense, she has to help Tobin._

Nemo is sitting quietly at the side of the bed, surely waiting on permission to jump up, he just doesn’t realize he won’t be getting it anytime soon. There’s a smaller plush blanket over Tobin’s head already, and Christen has no idea what she’s supposed to do.

Nothing past instinct.

So she just acts. 

She brings herself around the bed with a wave of approval to Nemo. He finally jumps up to lay by her legs protectively as Christen finds the spot next to Tobin, and she carefully lifts up the edge of the blanket to peek inside, giving her the time to shut it if she wants to. 

She doesn’t know if it’s okay, any of it, but she doesn’t have time to figure it out by thinking about it, so she just hopes. 

She just prays she’s got this right. 

She lies down and falls under it fully, confidently instead of shaky and unsure, and she scoots as close as she can while Tobin breathes hot angry breaths into the pillow. 

Watching the person she’d rip her own heart out raw and by hand for be in this much distress is excruciating. She bites her tears back as hard as she can, to the point of tasting blood, and she closes her eyes, willing it all away.

She’s here and able to do whatever she can for her, but she feels like she’s being trapped into a seat and forced to watch Tobin be ripped apart slowly in front of her. 

It’s one of the most painful sights she’s ever had to see, but she brings her thumb to wipe the tears from closed angry eyes when her cheek is finally resting on the pillow, taking in some air. 

Christen swallows her tears down and brings her face closer, Tobin’s eyes still squeezed shut, and brings her forehead to her overheated one. 

She can almost feel it physically, how hard Tobin is trying to stop herself from crying, and how angry she gets when tears fall without permission, and she hates it. 

_She hates it so much._

This isn’t at all what she thought was going to be happening today, or probably ever with adult Tobin, but it is, and she feels as powerless as she’s ever felt.

She’s totally worthless to the situation, Tobin’s mind and body is her own, and Christen can’t do a single thing. 

She doesn’t ask anything else, knowing she won’t get an answer unless Tobin wants to give one.

So she moves as close as she can into her, and hopes Tobin will match her breathing eventually instead. 

It’s just, she doesn’t. 

She listens to her take turns letting small sobs out half into the pillow and grunt angrily soon after until she thinks it’s almost dangerous with how hot she’s gotten.

She wouldn’t dare move the blanket, this is Tobin’s space, she can’t take it away from her, but she has to do something, desperate to soothe the fire around them.

She can’t rub soothing patterns by her heart the way she so desperately wants to because she’s on her stomach. So she settles for her back under her shirt, and she can feel the fire burning under her skin. 

She wonders if Tobin can even feel how hot she is right now, probably too preoccupied by the battle in her pretty head. 

“M’having a bad day,” Tobin mumbles after she’s calmed down, her face still in her pillow. Christen’s eyes wait for pretty cinnamon ones anyway, just in case, as she continues her patterns. 

And yeah, she can clearly see Tobin is having a bad day, so she nods reassuringly, just to make sure she knows she’s listening, because she is. 

She can’t think of a single thing that would keep her from hearing the words that fall from her lips. 

“I have..” Tobin falters with a frustrated wet sigh that has the veins in her neck bulging angrily. Christen doesn’t think about it, her thumb just naturally moves softly across the two angry veins, trying to get rid of them desperately.

She waits and luckily Tobin eventually opens her eyes and tries again, calmer this time and against Christen’s forehead as the latter hangs on to every word. 

“I have everything else together,” she whispers painfully, bringing more tears to Christen’s eyes as she nods. She doesn’t know what she means but she keeps nodding anyway, because she believes her, God, does she believe her. 

“I just have bad days sometimes,” she finishes in an even more painful whisper, and she hates to think it, but she might be in more pain hearing it than Tobin. 

“That’s okay,” Christen matches her volume to reassure her, “that’s okay, we can have those.” 

They all have bad days, they’re only human. She doesn’t say it to Tobin, but she’s angry. She’s angry because it’s not fair that Tobin still has to have bad days like this after everything the world has already done to her. 

She feels Tobin nod into her and her breathing calm before she moves her face deep into Christen’s neck and brings her body to lay half on top of her, fully giving up her body weight, and it’s rare.

_It’s so rare._

There’s nothing else she can do but guard Tobin’s sleep now, and she watches over her protectively, soothing her when her breathing picks up and making sure she’s safe. 

She texts her dad vaguely with her left hand before the sun goes down, and she promises Tobin’s sleeping form that this will be the best sleep she will ever have if she has anything to say about it.

∞

The first time she wakes up, it’s to almost total pitch black darkness.

Tobin hasn’t moved a muscle, and she feels her warm breaths to prove it in her neck. 

Her hand is tangled in soft brunette baby hairs at the back of her neck, and she’s held her there safe and securely through the night so far, even in her sleep.

Even in her sleep state, her body knows to keep watch over her.

Nemo has moved to the space above them, mostly by Christen’s side, his soft snores by their heads, and she smiles at the warmest family that’s ever lived. 

She wonders if she’s in Nemo’s usual spot and if he minds.

She doesn’t dare move anyway, not even an inch to risk it, she just listens to the sounds of soft breathing around her, and feels the movement of Tobin’s chest against her own. 

She doesn’t notice for a while, too absorbed with keeping her little family as safe and comfortable as can be, but she finds it eventually. 

She has to work hard not to pick up her breathing on accident over the sight of soft glowing stars scattered across Tobin’s ceiling in the dark. 

There are things that she’s accepted she’ll never understand about the warm human exhaling gentle breaths against her neck. It’s just, she realizes now that she’s never just asked. 

She never just talks to her. 

She never tries anymore. 

When did she stop trying to understand her and replace it with anger? 

She thinks maybe when she realized Tobin was her soulmate, she put everything else aside, and she can’t help but feel selfish about it. 

She wonders what Tobin would say about it. 

How is it that everything has changed but everything in this moment could have been exactly what she woke up to when they were much smaller with no hurt between them.

The stars serve as a reminder that Tobin has grown into the strong and warm human Christen always knew she would, but she hasn’t forgotten about her past.

Or their past.

The only difference now is she can feel a warmth behind her ear at every moment of every day, something she thinks she never wants to wake up without ever again.

Tobin’s chest rises and falls with her own, slow and steady, and it’s the best rhythm God has ever allowed to exist.   
  


∞

The next time she wakes up, it’s not much different than the first besides the lighting in the room is bright and natural now.

Tobin’s face is just as deep into her neck under her chin as it was earlier, and she’s thankful for the world remaining quiet and letting the tired human rest. 

Christen’s hand softly moves the same baby hairs through her fingers she hasn’t let go of, and she rests her lips against her temple, just to check her temperature.

Just in case.

She lets time pass like this for a while, just allowing their breathing together to continue the lullaby for the sleeping heart that’s beating against hers. 

When she blinks enough soft blinks to get the sleep out of her eyes, she notices Nemo sitting up at the end of the bed patiently waiting. 

She wonders what he’s waiting for, but when she hears his soft cry, she realizes probably the same thing she needs to do.

_It’s definitely time for a potty break, she thinks._

Although, she is quite impressed with her bladder holding up for this long, almost as if it knew there was no chance of her leaving.

She leaves Tobin with the gentlest press of lips into her hair, and moves out from under her like she’s handling a bomb.

She slides the pillow under her, hoping that’ll do for now, and maybe hoping it won’t in a way, too.

She tip toes softly to the end of the bed and unties Tobin’s shoes she forgot to take off. She takes them off slowly, one at a time and quietly places them on the floor before she moves the sheet over her. 

She signals quietly to Nemo to follow and he looks nothing short of relieved before she opens the sliding back door in the living room.

The house is quiet, of course it’s quiet, but it’s a different kind of quiet as she sits on the coffee table to wait for Nemo to come back in. 

It’s the first time she’s been able to take everything in without having to keep it together for Tobin, and her tears fall slow and tired into her hands. 

The thought of Tobin ever having to deal with a bad day alone makes her nauseous. It makes her feel almost sick thinking of how much hurt is inside of the gentle girl she’s loved ever since she knew how. 

The sound of Nemo’s collar brings her back to life and he rubs against her hands to get her attention. She gives him a soft smile as he rests his head in her lap, and she wonders if he understands how much he’s needed here. 

He watches over Tobin the nights she can’t. 

He’s here for her in ways Christen hasn’t been in years. 

She couldn’t ask for anything more. 

“You’re doing such a good job,” she whispers to eager and soft ears, pressing kisses into his face as he receives them happily. 

She finds herself by the bedroom door for a while, overlooking Tobin’s still deep sleep, and she wonders how she can bring herself to wake her up. 

Her hair is messy around the pillow, a bun that is far from a bun now long forgotten. Her arm is loosely around the pillow that replaced Christen’s body, and her face is almost entirely underneath it. 

_Yeah, she thinks she’ll let her sleep for days if she wants._

She can drink water and eat breakfast whenever she’s ready. 

There’s no rush.

She naturally gravitates back to her spot in the soft and warm bed, and Tobin makes room for her, even in her sleep as she snuggles herself closer to the pillows spot. 

This pillow didn’t know what it had, anyway. 

She keeps herself at a small distance from Tobin, just in case she doesn’t want it, and watches as sleepy half lidded eyes peek at her quietly. She waits for something, anything, but nothing comes as her eyes trace her sleepy face. 

Eventually, tired arms bring the blanket back over their heads halfheartedly, and Christen helps her carefully with their quiet adjustable home. 

It’s almost as if Tobin never knew she had moved at all, and she burrows herself back into her neck, and Christen sighs content at the closeness all over again as she scratches down her warm back until she falls asleep. 

There’s no rush at all.   
  


∞

  
The next time she opens her eyes, it’s to a sleepy golden glow of a sunset shining through the windows over the bed. 

It’s definitely too late to be waking up, and they’ve definitely spent at least twenty four hours in this bed by now, and yet, she feels just as tired. 

Half the bed is much colder than it was earlier, but the source of warmth isn’t far, because the second thing Christen’s newly awake eyes find is the back of Tobin’s head at the floor of the bed. 

Christen’s arm is outstretched in front of her where she lays on her side, so close to the end of the bed where Tobin’s head is, she could touch her if she reached. 

But she doesn’t. 

Nemo is laying his head practically on her shoulder where he lays on the bed, Tobin sitting upright against the wood of the bed frame, and everything is almost too quiet to disturb. 

But she does.

“Tobin..” Christen mumbles softly, her cheek still against the pillow and her hand still so close but not touching her.

Tobin calmly turns her head, not fully, but enough to see her in the corner of her eye with a barely there smile, and it’s enough.

“Morning,” Tobin whispers lightly in a voice Christen can only explain as peaceful. She goes back to doing whatever she was doing on the floor, and nosy as she is, Christen tries to peek over her shoulder before she’s quickly caught. 

“C’mere,” Tobin breathes, her hand making a soft motion to bring herself to the spot next to her, and Christen does exactly that, sleep heavy in her bones. 

She’s guided down by Tobin’s helpful arm, and she didn’t need it, not at all, but every touch of her fingers against her skin lights a fire inside of her anyway. 

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she settles into her spot on the right of Tobin, their whole bodies from their shoulders to their thighs are touching as they sit against each other.

She furrows her eyebrow at the box of pictures in front of Tobin, not knowing where she even got all of them.

There’s not tons, but there’s definitely a good few, and she gasps softly as she continues to look around. 

A picture of a small Tobin and her chocolate peanut butter birthday cake one year finds a deep space in Christen’s heart to live in forever as she picks it up.

Her little nose is so red, her cheeks matching, and her smile is so dopey and pretty, Christen can barely take it. 

She could never forget that night. 

She finds Tobin’s eyes and Christen doesn’t even try to hide the wobble to her lip, because she loves every version of Tobin so much, she can’t even bear it sometimes.

She looks through the rest of them, half of them are Tobin herself taken from her parents throughout the years, but the rest are of her and Christen.

There’s one very special one of their whole family one Thanksgiving, and her heart squeezes painfully in her chest. 

“How’d you get them?” Christen wonders softly, fondly taking in a picture of them both smiling happy chocolate smiles around her mom in the kitchen. 

She thinks about how even the much younger version of Christen knew she loved the girl sitting next to her with everything she had. 

Tobin doesn’t answer her with words, but she slowly moves to get one of the pictures again, and wordlessly hands it to Christen before she turns it over for her. 

Christen doesn’t even have a chance to finish reading the words before the tears are pouring out of her eyes and running down her cheeks. 

_  
To my messiest and hungriest child of all,_

_You will always have a home here._

_Always,_

_Your Marlin._

Everything about it feels excruciatingly painful, from her mother calling Tobin _her child_ to the mention of Tobin’s favorite movie and how well her mom knew who she was to her. 

She wonders if it’s something her mother said often to Tobin or if it was something unspoken and held dear to both of them. It’s Tobin’s favorite movie in the world, and as she thinks back on the tears that always gathered by her eyes, she wonders if that’s what Tobin always saw. 

That she was as lost as Nemo but nobody ever looked for her, she had no Marlin. 

Until her mom. 

Her heart yearns for her mother every day of her life, but it absolutely _aches_ for Tobin’s loss of her as well, and sometimes she tries to forget it all.

But it’s right there in black sharpie on the back of a picture of Tobin and her first birthday cake, the proof of something she had already always known.

Her mother loved Tobin in a way that she could never understand, and she’s immensely grateful for it. 

She already knew it to be true, but when Tobin tiredly leans into her, wet cheeks and harsh breaths, she promises she’ll never forget again. 

“She..” Tobin stops with a painful shake of her head against Christen’s forehead when she adjusts it for her. Christen thumbs away as many tears as she can, but it’s entirely useless. 

“She was going to give it to me,” she tries again, a small break to calm down in between. “On my eighteenth birthday.” 

The pain in her voice twists deep, and Christen nods against her, understanding it fully. 

Her dad must have given it to her instead, and it breaks her heart to imagine it, because it could very well be the reason she needed so much space during that time. 

Her mom did love a good scrapbook. 

She must have been building this box for years, waiting patiently for her to be eighteen to give Tobin her entire childhood in a box. 

The gift is everything her mom embodied. 

She holds Tobin through it, just like Tobin held her through it once, and she wonders if Tobin ever really mourned her mother properly at all. 

She knows she didn’t do it with Christen, always shying away when it was her turn to talk, and maybe that’s all the information she needs to figure it out. 

She wishes she could remember it all better, but she was too deep in her grief to remember most things during that year. 

They stay there for what feels like hours, the golden sun a deep red in the sky now, it being almost too dark to be in the room without a light, but they don’t move.

She doesn’t know how healing for this really ever works, it’s a continuous process throughout life, bad days and good days, but she hopes this is something. 

_She just wants this to be something._

She thinks it’s possible Tobin may have fallen asleep against her as she works her fingers through her favorite baby hairs, but Tobin finally speaks up.

“The year it happened..” Tobin starts, finding her forehead again as she pulls away, her hand firm on Christen’s jaw now. “I stayed with you a lot after.. do you remember?”

Christen nods against her, listening to Tobin’s soft sniffles, feeling how determined she is to speak now. She thinks maybe that’s what they just spent so long in silence for, for Tobin to muster the courage to speak, so she stays quiet and doesn’t dare interrupt her. 

“My dad..” Tobin cries the last word out softly, and it burns an anger so hot inside Christen she wants to kill someone who’s already dead.

“S’okay,” Christen tries to let her know if she isn’t ready she doesn’t have to with a stroke of her thumb against her cheek. Watching her is too painful, but she’ll do it, or course she’ll do it.

Tobin shakes her head, still determined, and she continues to speak through it, as Christen listens to every word of her story.   
  


_Every step she takes on the walk home feels like her bones are begging her to go back to Christen, but she doesn’t._

_Then again, every step that takes her further from Christen usually ends that way._

_The porch light is on, and Tobin huffs exhausted, not feeling nearly as emotionally ready as usual.  
_

_There’s an alter ego she takes with her everywhere she goes, always ready to pop it up like a cardboard cutout._

_That version of her doesn’t care about any single word hurled at her, she could take a punch or a push like it’s nothing and start all over again._

_Some things will always slip through it, of course they will, the words ‘worthless’ and ‘no good’ always ready to ignite the fire in her body to lash out._

_But this year is different, this year she’s been off her guard, softened just the smallest bit from spending so much time at Christen’s, the place that is aching for a soul that is too far for her to find right now._

_She’s got to harden it all back up, just to grab some clothes and her last assignments to graduate, and then she can ride the last few weeks in this house out like it’s nothing._

_She doesn’t know where she’s going to go, but she knows eighteen is the ticking time bomb her dad’s been waiting for._

_He’ll probably throw her stuff out on the street before midnight that night._

_She scoffs at the thought._

_She doesn’t know what comes after this, her grades are shit, she barely has any friends besides Christen, and she’s been a burden on that family her whole life, it’s not like she can add anymore._

_Especially not now._

_She doesn’t know what’s next, but she knows if it’s away from him, it’s probably her best shot at a decent life._

_She walks up the steps, praying he’s fallen asleep drunk somewhere in the house again, and he’s not in a violent mood, because she’s tired._

_She’s so very tired, drained from the year from hell, drained from school and having to see Christen in shambles. She’s drained from it all, from being a shit friend and from thinking about how shitty of a soulmate she’s going to be soon._

_What a waste, she thinks._

_God really wasted another souls heart in her hands, and she knows, she just knows it’s going to be Christen’s._

_He couldn’t have done a worse job picking Christen’s soulmate if it is._

_She doesn’t want to think about it._

_She just wants Christen’s mom to come home._

_She’s so tired._

_She opens the door, and it seems quiet enough, there’s no music blasting, no screaming at the television or things falling over, she thinks he’s definitely asleep._

_She walks into the kitchen quietly, and her heart stops._

_“Finally needed to come back here then, huh?” He scoffs into his bottle.  
_

_She had perfectly avoided him for months now, only needing to get her stuff and go quickly, but she missed the mark this time._

_She nods her head quietly, making sure there’s no attitude in it that could set him off, and she quietly starts walking to the stairs before she hears him._

_“Heard that prissy bitch died_ _” his laugh drips in hatred, “it was only a matter of time, you killed your own mother, too.”_

_“Worthless piece of garbage you are, good thing you don’t have any other friends-“_

_The beer bottle she throws misses his head by a mere inch._

_The silence that overtakes the room is the worst one she’s ever heard.  
_

_She feels like a caged animal as the adrenaline pumps through her veins and she wants to do it, she wants to do it once and for all._

_To just fight it out, see who would win in the long run, but he’s a strong man.  
_

_The kind of man that’s driven with a hatred so heavy in his heart, some nights she thought he’d just kill her._

_The child deep inside of her begs her to run, so she does._

_She runs, and she just barely gets out of there as his hands desperately try to pull her back in as she makes it past the door._

_“Don’t you come back here, you hear me!” He seethes as she fixes her jacket he almost pulled off._

_She runs._

_And she runs._

_And then she keeps running._

_She runs to the beach, to the familiar lifeguard tower she had spent so many good nights on, but this ones different, this ones harsh cries and desperate pleas to God to help her._

_This nights entirely different than the ones spent with her best friend._

_The ice cold mention of her mother that died during child birth breaks her into pieces against the wood.  
_

_She did kill her didn’t she?_

_The mention of the other woman she loved and lost with every bit of her broken heart feels like she can’t even wake up tomorrow._

_Every place she goes she destroys._

_She’s destroyed her own family, she’s destroyed Christen’s, now what does she do?_

_Where does she go?  
_

_She’s going to be Christen’s soulmate and ruin her life, too.  
_

_She can’t do this._

_So she just sobs her heart out until God tells her._

_But the answer never comes, so she answers it for herself._

_There’s only one way out of this, isn’t there?_

  
“ _Tobin_ ,” Christen stops her abruptly, tears streaming down her face, “I don’t- I don’t want to hear this part.” She pleads into her hands. 

She’ll listen if she wants her to, if Tobin has to get it out more than she has, but it’s so painful to hear she can feel the wheezing in her chest. 

She can’t imagine, she can’t even imagine a world without Tobin in it, she can’t hear this part, this part of Tobin’s life she kept so secret, a part of her life where she could have decided to take her life away from her. 

Away from the world.

How could she have missed all of this? 

How could she have just walked the earth like nothing happened and not know any of this?

“I’m better now,” Tobin holds her face in her hands, her red eyes begging her to look at her, “I didn’t do it and..” Christen shakes her head still trying to get rid of the thought of it. “Sonnett let me stay at her place for a while after.”

“Chris..” Tobin pleads in an entirely different tone, “I was a mess and it was long before I got help.. but then your birthday came so fast and I- I wanted to be ready _so_ bad.” 

It all starts to click slowly for her as she feels Tobin frantically shake her head like she can stop what’s already been done. 

“I wasn’t ready,” Tobin barely gets it out past her sobs.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t ready yet but I came anyway.” Tobin cries into her and Christen wants to wash it all away for her, because it doesn’t matter now. “I didn’t know, I promise I didn’t know, I thought I could do it, but I wasn’t ready yet.”

All she had to do was tell her, and she would have waited so patiently wherever she was.

She brushes her tears away again with her thumbs and waits for everything to calm down so she knows she hears her loud and clear. 

“All you had to do was talk to me,” Christen whispers to her, “that’s all you ever have to do.”

She hopes the words make a home somewhere in Tobin’s heart.

The nod against her forehead tells her they just might.


	12. Compass.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> toaster strudel is the main character for this one

She blows out a mentally exhausted breath. 

How can she not figure this out? Seventeen years of education behind her, and she can’t figure this out.

What a waste of money all that fancy schooling was if she can’t even use a single brain cell and just _figure this out._

She squints her eyes in one last desperate attempt, and she huffs in frustration towards the ceiling. 

She can’t keep Tobin waiting any longer in silence, not when she can physically feel her eyes pushing her to just say something.

 _Anything_.

“Okay,” Christen decides once and for all, “I’ve got it.” She nods confidently as she watches Tobin’s eyebrows raise in anticipation. 

“A snake.”

The defeated groan to the right of her is long and dramatic, and she knows she’s got it wrong again. 

“It’s not a snake?!” Christen squeaks.

“What kind of snake has legs, Chris?” Tobin sighs, dropping the flashlight back onto her stomach to bring her face into her hands.

“The one you just made,” Christen answers her like it’s obvious. 

They’ve been playing shadow puppets on the ceiling for hours by now, Tobin winning by a landslide, and it’s not fair. 

It’s just not fair, Christen’s are so much easier to guess. 

“You’ve made the same snake with legs shadow for the last six turns,” Christen complains, and if her voice is a few octaves higher, well, that’s what Tobin gets.

“What’s it like to be a liar?” Tobin asks seriously as she brings herself up on her elbow and rests her chin in her hand. “I’ve always wanted to know.” 

“Okay,” Christen looks up at her with a mocking smile, “then what is it, huh?”

“An anteater.”

Christen freezes.

“An _anteater_?” 

“Yup,” Tobin turns around back onto her back and brings the flashlight back to the ceiling with her same terrible hand shadow, and Christen continues to judge her openly. 

“You’ve never even seen one of those,” Christen mumbles with a tone of finality as she crosses her arms.

“Oh, but I have,” Tobin turns her head on their shared pillow to find her eyes with a grin, “six times actually, right on this ceiling.” She points above them to drive her point. 

Christen blows out a laugh between them and watches Tobin move her eyebrows around cutely. 

She’ll let her have that one.

After the emotional afternoon they had and the twenty four hour sleep extravaganza before that, there was no chance for sleeping tonight.

Tobin didn’t ask her to leave, and Christen didn’t ask to stay over again, they just let everything be, they did what they wanted to do, and they just let it be. 

Probably less by choice and more because of the much needed emotional break, but she figures it’s the same thing. She doesn’t know where they go from here, what their relationship will look like by the end of the month, where she’ll be or how much more she’ll learn about Tobin.

She just knows there’s a lot to take in, and she can’t properly understand it all until she’s home and there is two less cinnamon sugar eyes on her own. 

It’s three in the morning now, and she still feels wide awake, and if she’s honest, quite hungry. It’s just, as she watches Tobin’s smiling eyes stare into her own, she doesn’t want to get up for anything.

Apparently, Nemo doesn’t really care. 

The feeling of paws jumping on and around her as he jumps onto the bed without permission is surprising, but the feeling of a warm heavy weight burrowing in between them is expected.

They both groan at the new weight on them and watch as he drives a wedge between them on his back, paws up and belly begging to be rubbed, pulling defeated laughter out of both of them. 

“Less than three days of being here,” Tobin starts with a huff lifting herself up on her elbow to rub behind his ears and move to his belly shortly after, “and you’ve untrained him.” 

Christen bites her lip guilty, because she absolutely has corrupted him, especially with the bacon treats above the fridge.

_Tobin doesn’t know that part yet, though._

She thinks that’s another thing between her and Nemo.

“I’m so hungry,” Christen changes the subject with a look of faux innocence, bringing her attention back down to the comfortable dog in a trance below them. 

“Want to go find some food, baby?” She whispers to him, and Nemo is up on his legs and jumping down as soon as the word food leaves her mouth.

By the time she makes it to him down the hallway, a mumbling Tobin trailing behind her as she grins, the heaviness of the last few days finally settle onto her. 

It’s a lot.

There comes a time when the right thing to do for the person you love is to put your own things aside to assure they’re okay, but it isn’t permanent, it can’t be.

It was the right thing to do, to listen and comfort and just _be there_ with her in the moment, but reality has set in, and the world is still turning. There’s things that need to be talked about and thought through rigorously. 

There’s questions that can’t wait any longer, and if Tobin isn’t ready to answer them now, well she can’t keep her life on hold anymore. 

They’ve got to talk after breakfast or it will never happen at all.

“Uh..” Tobin rubs at the back of her neck as she looks through the freezer, and Christen smiles softly against the cabinet in the kitchen, because this should be good. 

“The menu this evening,” Tobin stops abruptly to look behind her at the clock on the oven, “actually, _morning_ ,” she corrects with a finger pointing at Christen.

“Is pizza rolls or toaster strudel,” she finishes with a flashy smile and Christen shakes her head at the choices, but it’s obvious between the two which she’s going for as she pulls the blue box out of Tobin’s hand.

“You didn’t eat all the frosting packets out of it already, did you?” Christen asks as she looks inside the box of strawberry toaster strudel. 

Tobin did always have that problem, never being able to wait until it was even in the toaster.

The guilty look on Tobin’s face would be proof enough, but the frosting-less box really knocks it home. 

“I definitely have a container of frosting somewhere we can use,” Tobin is quick to check the cabinets, and Christen grimaces at the thought of using cake frosting instead, but she figures Tobin must do this all the time. 

“Found it!” Tobin grins at her with a vanilla frosting container in hand, and Christen huffs out a laugh as she gets a set into the toaster to make. 

She leans against the counter by the toaster as she watches Tobin open the frosting and dip a finger in without realizing Christen is watching her, and she violently rolls her eyes. 

“So..” Tobin turns around, freezing for a split second at realizing she was caught, but then grinning shortly after and leaning back against the counter across from her. 

“What?” She starts sweetly, “you’re pretending you don’t like frosting anymore?” 

“I like frosting just fine, just not at..” Christen looks at the time on the oven for emphasis, “four in the morning.” Tobin hums in thought, and Christen already knows what she’s up to. 

She already knows where it’s going, she’s seen that look on Tobin’s face a million times before, just like that night when she had offered her a sip of wine, she just knows.

It’s just, things are different now, after these last few days, things are a bit less tangled, sure, but somehow.. it’s all heavier than ever before.

Tobin being Tobin of course, has already made it to her side of the kitchen with the container in hand before she can stop it. 

“Come on,” Tobin pouts, big pretty eyes already working the empty room, just as Christen knew they would, “live a little.” 

She thinks it’s a good thing the toaster can’t exactly be affected by them. 

Christen rests her head back against the cabinet with closed eyes and a tired smile before she opens them again to Tobin even closer to her with a finger already ready with frosting.

_She could do it._

She could accept it easily, just like she has before and softly bring Tobin’s hand closer to her mouth to receive the frosting off her finger quickly, she could. 

But it’s already too complicated as it is, she doesn’t need to lick frosting off her _sort of still best friend almost perfect soulmate kind of still could be almost maybe’s_ finger. 

She could play along, pretend everything is easy and nothing ever came between them, just like they have the last few months in small moments, but it won’t help them.

It won’t help them at all.

So she smiles softly at her before she dips her own finger into the frosting instead, and gets a small taste, and as soon as it’s done, she almost regrets it. 

_Almost, but she doesn’t._

It was what was best for them, she knows it.

There’s a difference in intimacy with this action, it’s the sort of kind that makes everything feel too hot and make hearts beat out of their chests.

It’s not holding each other gently or keeping her safe and warm, it’s just different, and she’s just not ready to have another moment like it until they’ve figured this out. 

She needs to set the boundary until she can just figure it out. 

Apparently Tobin knows it too, because she’s instantly creating more space between them when she gets the clue, and she gives her a soft nod of understanding.

“Sorry,” Tobin breathes, and she could pick up the guilt in it miles away. 

“It’s okay,” Christen breathes out a gentle laugh before they both turn in surprise at their finished toaster pastries popping back up.

Because it is, okay that is, she’s set her boundary now and Tobin understands, and it’s okay.

Tobin expertly deals with the burning against her hand as she gets them out of the toaster, and Christen has never been so happy to have such an expert on toaster strudel in her life as her stomach grumbles again.

She lightly frosts them both and hands her one with a small smile and Christen accepts it happily before they take their first bites in a comfortable silence. 

Tobin is sat on the counter now, leaning against the fridge facing her as Christen leans onto the counter with her elbows. There’s enough space between them to ensure no tension, and it’s exactly what she needed. 

Then again, that is why she gave Tobin the hint, isn’t it?

Of course Tobin listened to her.

Tobin looks so comfortable and awake in her spot when Christen takes her in again, that her knowing smile couldn’t be stopped even if she tried. 

“You do this often, huh?” She asks, but she doesn’t even really need to, because she already knows the answer.

“What?” Tobin laughs around her bite, “stay up until the sun comes up and eat toaster strudel?” She shrugs like she doesn’t, but she knows she’s done this quite a few times by the looks of it, so she waits for the confirmation.

“Sometimes,” Tobin nods lightly, “after a bad enough day.. it’s nice to remember the good things after, even if they’re little.” 

It’s a surprisingly deep answer, definitely more serious than what she was expecting, but it’s also just nice to hear. Tobin now looks at the little things in such a big way sometimes, she has a whole system around making sure things can get better after they fall apart. 

She imagines that’s a tip from the help she got, and it makes her instantly feel at ease at the thought. 

Some of the mumbled words in tears have slowly started to make more sense the more time she’s spent with her the last few days, and this is one of those times. 

_“I have everything else together.”_

_“I just have bad days sometimes.”_

She wanted her to know she was better, that there are things that won’t ever go away, but things she’s learned to deal with. 

“Toaster strudel and sunrises,” Christen laughs around her last bite, “sounds like a dream.”

Tobin nods happily at the statement, definitely agreeing, but she finds her eyes after with a sparkling question in them. 

“Do you want to see?” Tobin asks shyly, “the sunrise, it’s..” she checks the clock again across from them, “only like an hour out, if you want to.” 

She thinks about politely declining, maybe even going home after this and letting Tobin know she just needs a little bit of time to breathe air she hasn’t.

She thinks about it, but ending the last few days on a full belly with a sunrise feels deserved and also symbolic.

So she nods kindly, and tries to remember to mention the little bit of space she’ll need before she leaves the beach when it’s all over. 

She has a feeling she won’t need to remember anyway, because she can feel Tobin already knows.

So she shoots her a fond look before she watches her jump off the counter with a similar one, and she looks forward to the sunrise for the first time in a while.

  
∞

  
She leaves the house in the deep royal light of the morning with a kiss to Nemo’s sleeping head and clothes that don’t belong to her. 

She didn’t exactly plan on having sleepovers when she had initially come over, and Tobin was nice enough to give her full closet and shower privileges. 

Above all else though, _she leaves with Tobin,_ and they walk side by side quietly with the cool morning air around them.

The first feeling of sand beneath her feet is heavenly as always, but it’s cold and fresh this morning, and it feels like a brand new start. 

When they make it to the lifeguard tower, Tobin sits first in her spot, and Christen follows with a small space between them with a soft sigh of relief at the sight in front of them. 

The sky is still resting in its deep blue bed over the water, but it’s enough light to see the sugary pretty sand below them being hugged gently by the tide coming in.

They exist comfortably in silence together for a moment, taking it all in, and she wonders how Tobin could look at such a sight so often and never have once called her in the last four years. 

It didn’t take much for Christen to almost give in every day, the sight of one of Tobin’s favorite foods or the view of the ocean not too far from campus when she took a walk.

She said she wasn’t ready, and Christen understands that, of course she does, but she says she got help, that she got better, but she never called.

_Not once._

And yet, she was mad about Christen not coming home somehow. 

The thought brings back a small anger forgotten momentarily from a few days ago, and she decides instead of letting it manifest, it’s time to talk. 

Except, she doesn’t get to say anything just yet, because apparently Tobin has the same idea. 

“When I left that morning, I thought I was going to die,” Tobin starts sadly, looking at the water still. “That’s how painful it was..” 

“For _you_?” Christen interrupts, and it’s definitely not soft.

“No,” Tobin shakes her head quickly when she meets her eyes, “I mean.. of course it was painful for me but I know it was worse for you, I know that, that’s.. that’s what hurt me the worst, how bad I knew it was going to hurt you.” She tries to explain, it’s a little desperate and a little frantic, but Christen listens.

“It was almost unbearable, but I..” Tobin looks so frustrated she might just give up on trying to explain at all, but Christen waits for her anyway, patient and quiet. 

It’s the only thing she can do.

If Tobin still can’t explain things to her, then she kind of needs to know that _now_.

“I was so sure.. I had never been so sure of something in my life, I thought..” Tobin tries again, “I know how wrong it was now, but I was so sure it was the right thing then.. that you’d go to college and be happy and find someone that deserves you.” 

Christen nods sadly at the admission, resting her head on the wood behind them, watching Tobin do the same with watery eyes.

They’re still far enough that they aren’t touching, but when their heads rest together like this with their eyes set on each other, it feels more intimate than any touch could. 

It’s exactly what gives her the push to ask something she had wanted to know since she left for school. 

“Is that why you put it behind my ear?” She whispers, her stare unwavering, and she doesn’t even need Tobin’s nod to know it’s true anymore, but she gets it anyway.

It became increasingly obvious after the things she learned, how low Tobin felt and how badly she wanted Christen to find the happiness she thought she’d find without her. 

She was hiding her soulmark. 

“I didn’t want you to have to see it if you found someone else.” Tobin whispers to her sadly, and it awakens something in Christen immediately. 

“So you knew you were going to leave before you marked me?” Christen’s heart speeds up painfully at the thought, and she feels the anger working it’s way up, but Tobin is quick to deny it.

“ _No_ , no I didn’t, I promise I didn’t know. I would have never came if I knew I was going to go.. I promise, Chris.” Tobin shakes her head sadly through it all as a stray tear falls, and Christen wonders how it’s possible she could have been worrying about someone else even if she hadn’t left.

“You thought I’d find someone else even if you stayed?” Christen wonders quietly, and the thought is laughable to her, because after all of this, she couldn’t shake an ounce of love from her cup for the girl next to her. 

“I thought I was the worst thing to ever happen to you,” Tobin admits between them with a self deprecating scoff, “sometimes I still do in a way, but for an entirely different reason now.” 

Christen nods at that, because she gets how that could work, even if it’s still just as impossible to be true now as it was then. 

The sky is a lighter blue now around them, the sun is still asleep, but it’s definitely close to opening it’s eyes, probably at the end of it’s dream. 

“You never called,” she sighs tiredly, finally feeling the exhaustion in her bones. “Even after you got better, you never called, not once.”

“I know,” Tobin whispers, “I wanted to.. but when you never came back home I had figured you were finally happy by then, that you weren’t coming home because you were happier than you had ever been. I didn’t know what to do. I had worked so hard in therapy but.. I couldn’t bring myself to turn your life upside down all over again if you found someone. I just wanted you to be happy.” 

“I couldn’t come home, but that’s not why,” the tears escape Christen’s eyes for the first time all morning, and she hopes to God she doesn’t have to explain that one further.

“I know,” Tobin whispers again to her, understanding in her wet eyes. “That’s why I was so mad at myself on Thanksgiving for not calling, I would have _known_ that had I just _called_.” 

It finally dawns on her now that Tobin was never mad at her for not coming home, she was mad at herself for not knowing why she wasn’t coming home sooner. 

Her anger feels like it’s almost bullying her with how dumb she feels about the whole thing now. 

_All they had to do was talk._

_All Tobin had to do was call to find that out._

She doesn’t owe it to her, she knows she doesn’t, but it will definitely make things easier to navigate for both of them if she understands more about it, so she lets her know. 

“Sam is..” she introduces his name for the first time, and watches it settle into Tobin’s brain, and she sees just the slightest intake of breath being taken at the information. “I met him at school and he didn’t have a soulmate.” 

She watches as Tobin nods, probably not feeling like she has the right to ask anything on the subject, and maybe she doesn’t, but Christen doesn’t mind if she knows, so she continues. 

“We bonded,” she shrugs, “but I wasn’t ready to.. I wasn’t ready to do anything really.. and I guess I pretended I was sometimes, like I could force it to work, but I couldn’t, and he saw right through it.” She watches Tobin nod, and if there’s a hint of pain and jealousy in it, well, there’d be no reason for that. 

“He’s one of the best people I’ve ever known,” she sighs at the reminder of having to call him soon, but maybe she shouldn’t be nervous, because knowing him, he already knows. 

“Do you love him?” Tobin asks quietly, and _that’s_ definitely filled with pain, but the look in her eyes isn’t angry or judgmental, it’s curious and ready to be understanding, and Christen smiles sadly at her for trying. 

The knowledge that Tobin would understand and accept a _yes_ sits quietly in her mind.

How could she love anybody else when her love for Tobin is so full it feels hard to breathe sometimes with so little room in her chest. 

“Not like that,” she shakes her head, watching Tobin’s eyes close and her lower lip wobble just the slightest as she looks away, and she almost can’t believe Tobin expected another answer to it. 

They let another moment of silence go by, almost as if the soft sounds of the water can wash away some of the pain they’ve carried for the last four years. 

“I’m sorry for missing the decorating,” Tobin whispers, sounding dreadfully remorseful, and Christen already knows some of that guilt is for her dad.

“He wasn’t mad at you for missing it, you know,” she confirms for her, just in case.

“He just wanted to know you were okay.” Tobin nods slowly to that, almost as if it’s still just a little surprising her dad loves her like one of his own. 

“I wanted to be there.. I always want to be there.”

“You always could be, he wouldn’t mind,” Christen laughs, “you’ve always been their favorite.” She mentions both of her parents, knowing the reminder will settle somewhere in Tobin’s chest, and mostly just knowing it’s true.

She never minded, though.

She gets it.

She watches the small shake of Tobin’s head with an even smaller smile, but she can read her like her favorite book again. 

The sun is just barely starting to poke out from the top of the clouds by the time the silence has reached its almost uncomfortable point. 

And honestly, Christen just wants it to go back to bed at this point. 

“You’re going to take some space now, aren’t you?” Tobin asks with a soft smile, and there’s no malice in it, she just finds soft understanding, and it makes the whole thing feel almost too easy.

She blinks once slowly, and it’s all Tobin needs to nod in acceptance.

“I’ll be here,” Tobin whispers to her, soft and sure. “If you need something, or.. whatever it is, I’ll be here.” Christen nods and takes in the comforting sleepy waves below them.

“You still have to put your stocking up before Christmas,” Christen reminds her as a small promise, and the grin that she gets in return feels like it’s Christmas morning already. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Tobin nods happily, and it feels..

Patient.

Like she’s ready whenever Christen is, and she realizes this is the first time _that’s_ really ever happened that she can remember. 

It’s different.

It’s nice.

The sun has finally opened it’s pretty eyes for the day as it shines down on them, and it feels like the dream is over. There’s work to do now, there’s things to think about, decisions to make. 

She would be lying if she said the faint smell of coconut and detergent coming from the neckline of the hoodie below her isn’t making it just a little easier for her to leave, though.

At least she’ll have her scent with her until it fades. 

She’s fully willing to sit here for a little while longer in the quiet, but the sound of Tobin’s sneakers against the wood as she makes her way up surprise her. 

Until she looks at her softly with a hand out, that is.

Christen accepts it, of course she accepts it, and maybe she holds onto the soft warm skin just a moment longer than she has to, but Tobin doesn’t mind.

The view of the fresh morning water seems so much more vast where they look over the edge, and Christen can’t keep but think of her mom when it’s like this.

She’d wonder if Tobin is thinking the same thing, but when she looks to the left of her and sleepy morning eyes are in a trance on the small waves washing in, she already knows she is.

Her mom loved the water, in all it’s beautiful forms, even just the sound of the mostly still water in their pool could pull her to sleep or fix a bad mood. 

She imagines if there’s a way she’s here, it would be through the water, through the sound or the pull of the waves folding over each other. 

It’s calm this morning, definitely strong if they were to go in, but calm. It’s easy and quiet, a good lullaby if she were able to sleep here, and she wonders if it means she’s happy now. 

“I made such a mess, didn’t I?” Tobin says half into her hands where her elbows are resting on the rail next to her, and she can see the guilt radiating off of her like she’s a cup of tea in the winter. 

It’s not really asked as a question, it’s not something Christen is supposed to answer or even really respond to probably. But as she watches tears be wiped with frustrated palms, she’s quick to close the distance. 

It takes a second for Tobin to adjust to it, still facing the water as Christen wraps around her gently, but as soon as she realizes, she wraps around her the tightest she thinks she’s ever done it. 

She fits perfectly in the spot under her chin, her nose pressing into her warm neck.

But If she _didn’t_ fit, she doesn’t really think it would matter anyway, because the hand at the back of her neck would probably _make_ her fit with how much love is in the action. 

_What’s it like to be warm and wrapped around the only soul that could ever satisfy your own?_

It’s an easy answer, she’s answered it a million times before, Tobin being in her arms and against her chest feels like nothing else in the world could matter more than this, like nothing had ever gone wrong at all.

But there’s a new question in her mind this time around as she feels a thumb stroke behind her ear and a hand at the small of her back gently keeping her up.

_What’s it like to be held like you’re the only soul that could ever satisfy another?_

It’s an easy answer, even for the first time she’s ever answered it, being in Tobin’s arms is a dream. It feels like all of the hurt between them is raw and real but the heart beating against hers would do anything to make it better.

The smell of warm sleepy skin will stay with her until she sees her next, and she isn’t even thinking about the borrowed hoodie. 

The feeling of a strong and warm forehead against her own when she pulls back feels different than ever before. For the first time, she feels like _she’s_ what’s stopping soft pouty lips from meeting her own.

They’ve changed roles for the first time in their lives, in almost every way, and it’s hard, it’s really hard, but she knows it had to happen this way.

She can’t be hurt again.

She barely made it out alive the first time.

She needs time.

She can still feel Tobin’s gentle thumb stroking at the spot behind her ear, and she’s been steadily warm in the spot for a while now, a long while, but she feels the warmth spread through her body.

“The problem was never not wanting you,” Tobin whispers to her through a warm breath that hits her lips, “you know that now, don’t you?” 

She’s about to say _yeah_ , she does know that now, and maybe she had always known that before, but before she can, Tobin is saying one last thing.

“Not even for a second, not since the day we met,” she breathes against her, “I need you to know that.” Christen finally nods against her, taking it all in, and she believes her. 

It doesn’t erase any of the hurt, it doesn’t change her need for space, but she believes her, _God_ , does she believe her. 

They stay right there in the morning light at the beach they had grown up on, making yet another memory she’ll never forget for all the days of her life.

When it’s time to separate, Christen leaves her with a gentle press of lips against her neck, and a lingering hand as she makes her way down the ramp before she hears her name one last time.

Her feet stop nervously in the sand, hoping whatever Tobin has left to say will still allow her to walk home and have a moment to think straight.

She can see the gentle look in Tobin’s eyes, and she instantly feels relief, because Tobin has no intention of saying anything to keep her here if what she needs is space. 

“Before you go,” Tobin has to speak a little louder for her voice to carry over to where she’s further away now, and she listens on attentively and curious. 

“There’s one more thing you should know.” 


	13. Lighthouse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C talks to the whole neighborhood

_She waits patiently with a puzzled look from where she’s standing in the sand as she looks up to Tobin leaning on the rail with her elbows._

_She doesn’t know what Tobin has left to say, but her eyes are soft and her smile is small, so it can’t possibly be something that bad._

_It instantly puts Christen at ease, standing in her warm hoodie that smells of the girl she loves more with every wave that washes up behind her._

_“My heart,” Tobin says over the sounds of the awakening ocean around them as Christen listens even more carefully because of the mention of her favorite organ._

_She just doesn’t expect what comes next._

_“It doesn’t burn anymore,” Tobin shakes her head, her smile small and sleepy as her hand rubs over the spot on her chest, and it takes a moment, but Christen eventually nods in understanding._

_The spot behind her ear hasn’t supplied anything past warm comfort and butterflies in a long while, but she hadn’t really thought about it until now._

_There’s been a lot going on._

_“Has yours?” Tobin wonders, her voice just a little louder than the waves behind her, and Christen is thankful they’re allowing her to hear it.  
_

_She shakes her head, still dazed by the reminder, and the smile she gets back is nothing short of fond._

_“That means you did it,” Tobin’s eyes are sparkling with mirth, but there’s a hint of something else, and Christen thinks she gets it._

_She’s still stuck on standby as she tries to figure out how she feels, It’s a big part of the reason she came here, she knows that. It just doesn’t seem nearly as important as it once did._

_If anything, it’s just nice to know the universe is finally okay with them again.  
_

_Their marks burned them all the way to this point, and now they’re here and she knows no matter which way she goes, it won’t bother her again._

_They did everything they could now._

_They._

_Not just her, Tobin had to work for this, too._

_Tobin had to speak about things she never spoke about in her entire life, and she isn’t sure how it works, but she imagines the notion didn’t go unnoticed by the universe._

_At least, if their marks that don’t burn anymore have anything to say about it._

_“We did it,” Christen corrects her softly, her face serious and maybe a little sad, because this is really it, isn’t it._

_This is where the universe leaves them on their own to figure the rest out for themselves.  
_

_If the burning could help her figure out the next part, she’d happily welcome it, but she knows it can’t._

_It’s a weird relationship to have, hating the burning for so long only to be thankful for it months later, but here she is._

_She takes Tobin in one more time, in all her sleepy and soft glory, and she remembers all the times she prayed for this moment before she turns to walk away, with a decision she dreamed of having for years._

_In every one of those dreams she would run into Tobin’s arms, not a care in the world for if it would go wrong, but this is real life now, and she can’t be so careless.  
_

_She has to protect herself now, just like she promised herself a million broken nights._

  
The sound of exasperated laughter fills the bathroom when she finds her own eyes in the mirror after wiping the steam off from the hot shower. 

Her palms lean on the sides of the bathroom counter and she bites her lip in an attempt to get it together, but it barely works as a small laugh slips through again.

The heat at the back of her neck is comforting and warm, and because she can’t help herself, she brings her hand over to her favorite fingerprint.

She thinks about why it’s in that very spot.. 

and it’s all it takes for her to be covering her disbelieving laugh again with her hands as she moves her head to the counter for a moment. 

She hates to say it, she really does, but she thinks back to Tyler’s words from that one morning, and she can’t believe it.   
  
_“She’s like a squirrel hiding nuts or something.”_

Tyler was right.

“She’s a fucking squirrel,” Christen whispers to herself in disbelief as she leans further into the bathroom counter with a huff as light as air.

It’s been two full weeks now since they watched the sun start it’s day above calm pretty waves that begged her to stay.

Two full weeks, and she’s waking up on the Sunday morning the week of Christmas, and she’s narrowed her life down to one question. 

What is stopping Tobin from running away again?

The idea is almost laughable, because maybe some things have changed but so many things haven’t. Tobin’s past is still the same, _Christen_ is still the same, the world is still the same. 

So what separates them from one rash decision for Tobin to just give up? 

One bad day that turns into two?

One argument? 

One day Christen forgets it’s her day to do the dishes or let Nemo out?

She has no idea what stops Tobin from running away this time, and it has her as scared as she’s ever been.

It’s even scarier now than the first time around, because now she’s felt what it’s like to lose Tobin.

She just isn’t sure what it’ll be like to lose her forever.

_And she can only imagine how well that one would go over._

There’s been a lot of quiet time to let everything settle, almost as if she was putting a puzzle together for the first time after looking at it for four years and not realizing some pieces were missing.

She’s found them now, the pieces, she’s found them and now she’s looking at everything together for the first time after examining each one carefully, and she still can’t answer the question.

_But maybe Tyler can._

  
∞  
  


“Can you say all of that again but like.. slower?” 

“What part did you miss?” Christen huffs.

“After the squirrel part, I really think I just checked out, to be honest.” Tyler shrugs with a nervous smile and Christen groans into her hands. 

_She knew she should have never started with that part._

“Tyler,” she sighs into the pillow on the couch, “this is serious, I need help.”

“Okay,” Tyler sounds just a little more determined and serious, and Christen waits impatiently. “What keeps the squirrel around this time, that’s the question?”

“It’s..” Christen sighs defeated, just letting it be. “Yeah, sure, that’s the question.” 

“Okay, well, I think you’re asking the wrong person.”

“ _That’s_ your answer?” Christen sits up abruptly, having just wasted her time explaining the whole thing to her.

Tyler looks completely at ease in her spot, and Christen is a hot second away from throwing a pillow square at her face.

“Yeah.” Tyler shrugs, and before she can say anything else, the pillow is exactly where it belongs.

“Hey!” Tyler’s voice is distant and offended, but Christen doesn’t care, she’s on her way to answer this once and for all.

She doesn’t find him in his room, and he’s not in the kitchen, and he’s not in the garage, and this is exhausting.

It’s one question. 

She finds him in the front, and she sighs happily at finally having the right person who won’t let her down. 

“Dad.”

“Yes, dear,” he mumbles around the glove in his mouth, opening the new bag of soil for the garden in the front. 

“I have to ask you something.” Christen sighs at having to run around town for one question. 

_Well, around the house._

“Okay,” he looks up at her happily with a nod, and she thinks about how she can word this better than before, because explaining it again, especially to her dad, seems far more daunting.

And a little embarrassing, if she’s honest.

So she goes with the hypotheticals, her favorite. 

“You loved mom a lot,” she starts determined, and receives two confused eyebrows atop of two blinking eyes.

“I do, yes.”

“Was there anything..” she clears her throat, “could she have done anything to make you give up?” She scratches her arm casually as she looks around the garden, and it doesn’t work, not even a little when she meets a small laughing smile and curious eyes.

“I couldn’t imagine, no,” he shakes his head, and it’s an honest answer, she knew that’s exactly what he would say, so now she can ask what she really needs. 

She’s more like her dad, so she needs to change it around for Tobin. 

“What about mom?” She asks with a sympathetic smile, taking this more serious now, “I remember you said once she was a little more scared to get married, what would have scared her off?” 

“I..” he thinks about it, letting the question settle, so Christen tries to help him.

“Like, what if you forgot to do the dishes or something like twice in a row before then?” She wonders, “it may have pushed her over the edge,” she shrugs.

He blinks.

His laugh is loud and free, and Christen huffs because nobody is taking this serious at all. 

“I don’t think your mother would have given up on me because I forgot some dishes,” his laugh finally turns into a fond smile, “you do remember how many times I made her life harder, don’t you?”

She wants to say _no, he always made her life easier_ , but he’s answering it already for her.

“I burned so many dinners, Christen.”

“It’s just dinner,” she shrugs, a little defensive for him, because it’s just dinner, of course she wouldn’t give up on him for dinner or the dishes. 

“Right, it is just dinner, isn’t it?” He smiles, obviously proud of himself for turning it around. 

She suddenly realizes this isn’t helping at all, so she sighs and brings herself down to the brick with him, and she prays she won’t have to give away more than she wants to.

“How did you know you had that?” She asks quietly before clarifying, “that you didn’t have to worry about her giving up after every little thing that went wrong?”

“We did something very important..” he trails off with a finger pointing at her, like he’s about to drop the best father advice in the world, and she listens so attentively she can hear birds from miles away.

“ _We talked_ ,” he whisper shouts with his smile big and proud while she huffs at the obvious advice. “Communication, Christen, it’s very important.” 

Yeah, she understands exactly what he’s getting at, and it’s not helpful at all.

She knows they all think this is so simple, that she can just talk to Tobin and figure it all out, but Tobin doesn’t talk, not like that. 

_Maybe she does now, but that’s not the point._

That’s not the point at all.

A little voice says maybe it is. 

But who cares.

“Right, well, I don’t speak squirrel,” she mumbles the joke with a shrug, half not sure if he heard and half not caring if he did. 

He blinks at her like she just started speaking French halfway through their conversation, and she doesn’t even bother.

She throws a quick genuine thanks over her shoulder as she makes her way to the backyard.

She knows exactly where she has to go now. 

  
∞

  
“Okay, mom,” she whispers where she’s laying on the edge of the pool, the quiet of the afternoon around her perfect to be able to hear anything from the water. 

“What do I do, huh?”

Her head is resting on her elbow where she’s moving the water around with her finger, and she’s not crazy, she’s definitely not crazy. 

It’s not like she thinks the water is going to come up in some big tsunami type thing and start speaking to her with a mouth. 

She just wants to know if anything will wash over her while she’s here in the quiet.

Maybe the movement of the water or the sound of it will steer her in the right direction, she doesn’t know. 

If nothing else, at least it’s calming her soul as she watches it with sleepy eyes. She totally gets why her mom liked doing this now, maybe less on the concrete and more on a chair, but still. 

Plus, she has someone to talk to that won’t just insinuate that she has to go to another place for the answer. 

The small movement of the water is calm and relaxing as it laps lightly around the sides of the pool, and all she can think about is how in a perfect world she could fall asleep to this. 

There’s just that little possibility of turning over and drowning. 

She wonders what her mom would really say if she was here, she wonders what she would have said years ago when it had ever gone wrong to begin with.

She wonders if it would have gone wrong at all the way it did if she was here for it.

_Maybe Tobin would have talked to her._

Maybe it wasn’t that simple, she doesn’t know, so she thinks about the question as hard as she can with her eyes on the water again. 

_What keeps Tobin from running away this time?_

She’s grown up, she got the help she felt she needed, she’s worked out a system and a whole thing to battle the things she’ll deal with forever. 

_And she’s done so well._

Christen knows she has, she’s got a whole.. thing together. She’s got her little family now, her and Nemo, she takes care of him and she has a little house she worked so hard on. 

She perfectly crafted every little thing she could for her home, Christen can see it in every small detail. From the kitchen cabinets to that one orange painted shelf in the hallway where her favorite pictures of Nemo are. 

She even delicately put the little stars on her ceiling so she could fall asleep to them every night, and her heart warms at the reminder. 

She watched her handle a bad day and not run away from her life, in fact, she watched her make it all better on her own, even with Christen by her side. 

Tobin did it all on her own. 

She’s different now. 

She breathes with the sound of the water as she tries to think even harder. 

Especially at the prospect of them being able to face things together, how could that not be enticing when she’s done so much on her own.

She doesn’t know. 

She doesn’t really know anything as she huffs into her elbow with her eyes shut, she really can’t answer this on her own, can she? 

“I miss you,” she whispers to the water, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes, wishing there was a better way to hear her. 

She imagines the stillness of the water for a moment is trying to tell her it’s okay, that she’ll be okay.

And she rolls with it as she stands back up and thinks of her next destination. 

This ones easy, because she’s put it off for long enough, and this answer has to be right, because the source knows almost everything about it already.

She finds her phone on her bed, and she looks at the light outside of her window that has turned from the crisp blue this morning to the beautiful golden color it is now. 

When she lays back into her bed and finds the same empty ceiling she’s stared at the last few months, she feels a pang of anger at herself. 

She knows why she did it at the time, but she just wishes she had waited, that she could go to sleep with them in their exact spot one more time.

_Maybe they would have told her what to do._

She checks the time, and she thinks about waiting, he’s hours ahead and definitely sleeping, but he’ll know exactly what to say, she knows he will. 

  
_“Christen, you-“_

_“I don’t want to!”_

_“Okay, you-“_

_“I don’t have to, I’m totally good now, I don’t need to do some stupid soul search and I don’t need any questions answered or something, I’m good now.” She tries to convince him as much as she’s trying to convince herself._

_“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Christen, I was just suggesting you think about it before you move-“_

_“I can do it Sam, look, I know it burns sometimes but I swear it’s not me, it’s totally not me, she’s-“_

_“Christen,” he stops her with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile that’s begging her to just listen for a second, so she does just that as she wipes at hot tears._

_“You don’t have to, but you can if you want to, do you understand?” He asks, his eyes soft and sure on her own. “I’m not going anywhere, I won’t be mad.”_

_“I know, but I don’t need to go,” she shakes her head as more tears fall, and he wipes away some for her as he looks through her like a piece of glass._

_“I know you don’t,” he nods with eyes full of understanding, “but you could go, and your life away from it all would still be waiting for you.”  
_

_Christen shakes her head at this, because she just wants to go with him to London, to a place where nobody knows her and she can start brand new._

_It feels further away._

_Exactly where she wants to be._

_In fact, maybe she’ll look at apartments in the North Pole next._

_“She left me like it was nothing,” she whispers painfully as he nods again in understanding._

_“I know, but she’s your soulmate, you don’t have to forgive her, Chris, but you deserve to know more, don’t you?” She nods softly into her hands._

_“Especially if it could stop the burning, it would be worth it,” he chuckles softly waiting for her to meet his soft eyes that are desperately trying to pull a smile out of her._

_“Totally would save so much money for the central air, too.” She huffs out a small laugh because Alex does blink when she sees the low numbers on the thermostat all the time._

_She tried._

_She really did._

_She tried, but it’s been years and she can’t even bring herself to kiss someone else’s lips, let alone anything more.  
_

_What’s her other option?_

_Keep him in limbo as a friend that could be more but most likely will never be while she figures something out she can never figure out on her own?_

_That can’t be what’s best._

_“You’re the only one that gets it, we’re friends for life now, you know that, right?”_

_“I do,” Christen nods sadly against his shoulder._

_She knows she has to go home and figure this out._

_If she can’t make room in her heart to love someone else, she has to know that now._

_By the time she’s on the road home, she’s got one thing chanting in her mind._ _She doesn’t quite know what he was talking about exactly when he said it before she left, but she can still hear it._

_“Now you fight like hell.”_

_She thought she had already been fighting, but who knows._

_She doesn’t know._

“Christen?” His voice is filled with sleep and her mind instantly fills with regret, because maybe this could have waited. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, I’m-“ she breathes away the tears at hearing his comforting voice for the first time in a while, he had helped her through so many nights like this before. 

“What happened?” She hears the small ruffling of sheets at the other end, and she should clarify quick. 

“Nothing, nothing really, actually, well-“ she stammers, “I don’t know, I just had a question.” 

“Okay, go ahead,” he says softly into the phone, and she can hear the small smile in his voice, because she knows he’s gloating just a bit now that he knows she’s okay.

He knows why she’s calling.

She never had to tell him a single thing.

He probably had known she’d be here all along, scared out of her mind if another chance is something she’s capable of giving.

“What did you mean when you told me to fight?” She whispers into the phone, “for what?”

“For her, Chris,” he confirms with a small confused laugh. 

It’s the first time she’s ever let it all sink in, and she’s not even sure if he had known he kept it so vague that it confused her. 

Maybe it was something she needed to figure out on her own, maybe she was fighting for the wrong thing for so long. 

“And what if she gives up again?” She whispers the question with tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“Then you come here if you need a friend, I’ll buy you a chocolate croissant every day and teach you the British words I’ve learned.” She nods against the phone, even though he can’t see it, she knows what he’s saying. 

Sometimes you just need someone who understands to help you get back on your feet, and she’ll be okay, but he’s mostly saying one very important thing to her.

_Don’t be scared to try again._

She just needs the answer to one more thing she’s been trying to figure out for weeks, and she hopes to God he has it.

“But.. what keeps her from running away this time, then?” 

She hears a hum.

And of course, he gives her the answer. 

“I think you have to ask her that.” 

She huffs, _because of course, of course she does,_ that seems to be the general consensus of the day. 

They just don’t understand that Tobin isn’t the type to answer a question like that, at least, the old Tobin isn’t.

She thinks maybe that’s the point again.

_This Tobin is different._

They hang up with smiling goodbyes and she can hear in his smile that he’s happy that she’s trying to figure this out. Most of all, she can hear in his voice how happy he is over there.

He’s proof of it, really, that you can live a life outside of a soulmate and figure things out along the way. You can make your own story and find other people like you, just like they did. 

It’s possible, she knows it, but God, does it sound awful to be away from Tobin again.

Christmas Eve is Thursday, and she has one more thing to do before she falls asleep, and she’s not brave enough to see her right now, but she can do the next best thing.

It would be easy to fall into her again, it’s exactly why she’s taken the bit of space to exist in a room that isn’t filled with her presence.

She picks up on the second ring, and it has Christen feeling all sorts of things.

“Chris?” She feels the instant relief in her chest at the sound of her voice, and she bites her lip to try to keep it out of her own.

“Will you still come over Christmas Eve?” She asks softly, “to put up your stocking?”

“Yeah,” she hears the small smile in her sleepy voice, “of course, I’ll be there.”

“Okay, do you.. would you want to sleepover like we used to?” Her stomach feels like it’s dropped in embarrassment at the question being asked like she’s a child.

“For Christmas.” She clarifies. 

There’s nothing she loved more than the Christmas Eve sleepover, where she could wake up to her favorite day and her favorite person and nothing but happiness would fill their lives for the next twenty four hours.

She wants it to be the same this year. 

Even if she was supposed to leave the day after. 

She can ask her the question, and she can make her decision, and it’ll be good.

It’ll all be good.

“Yeah, I want that.” Tobin answers softly, “I really want that.” 

It sounds like it’s tinged in excitement and sadness, like she’s not even sure how to feel, and Christen aches to put her mind to rest, but she can’t.

She doesn’t even know what’s happening herself.

“Okay..” Christen breathes, a firm bite to her lip at hearing the tone of Tobin’s voice. “I’ll see you then.”

She falls asleep to the soft whispered goodnight playing over and over in her head, and the thought of seeing adult Tobin with Christmas cookie frosting on her smiling cheeks. 


	14. Battleship.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nemo is tired of this soap opera

How long is too long to be away from your soulmate? 

She doesn’t know. 

The answer could easily be studied too closely for it to be healthy, so she probably wouldn’t answer, because how could she know the appropriate answer to the question.

Surely, a single second can’t be the right answer to it.

A minute is definitely a bit dramatic.

An hour, twelve hours, half a day? 

Half a day seems a little more realistic, at least. 

She wouldn’t know what to say to seem normal, if she’s truly honest about it.

It would also depend on which version of her you asked, and what kind of day she was probably having. 

How long is too long to be away from your soulmate? 

Third grade Christen would probably say she has no idea with a toothy grin, but however long it took Tobin to put her buzz lightyear sneakers on before she came over, that seemed a bit long.

So maybe whatever time that was.

How long is too long to be away from your soulmate? 

Tenth grade Christen would probably shrug with a thoughtful hum and say however long it took for Tobin to finish soccer practice and end up on her couch freshly showered.

That was infuriatingly long to her. 

So that’s got to be about the right amount of time.

How long is too long to be away from your soulmate? 

Adult Christen wouldn’t hesitate to answer.

She’d say however long it was from the night she fell asleep with warm hands splayed across her naked back, to the moment she finally found her eyes again on the beach this past summer.

That was definitely too long, and she never wants to be away from her for that long ever again. 

The child version of Christen would lose her mind if she knew she would have had to do this in her lifetime. She couldn’t imagine what she would have said if her dad told her Tobin wouldn’t be coming over for a couple years back then. 

She wouldn’t accept it, there’s just no way. 

She just wishes it were that simple now.

She could be thinking about all of this because she hasn’t seen her in over two weeks, that could definitely be what’s brought the question to her mind. 

It could also be the reason why she’s hungrily taking Tobin in at her front door like she hasn’t seen another human being in ten years. 

She just has a feeling it probably has almost nothing to do with that at all.

She doesn’t know what she expected Christmas this year to be like.

Well actually, that’s kind of a lie. She expected it to be like the last four holidays, just her and her family at her grandmas house, a few hour drive from school and a full belly for weeks when she’s sent back with leftovers.

She just knows she definitely didn’t expect to be staring at her _sort of still best friend but mostly love of her life perfect soulmate but still working on it_ in a button up shirt with a pining look in her eyes. 

There’s a fire somewhere in her eyes, but it’s small, like she’s fighting with a million different things to let the fire take over.

Christen can’t be sure until the fire is allowed to take over, but she thinks she likes whatever the fiery look is.

She likes it a lot. 

It’s only been a little over two weeks, they had already gone more than four years before this just like it, but apparently if Tobin’s eyes are giving the right message, well. 

Tobin’s really sick of this shit.

And Christen gets it.

She really does, it’s just not that simple to fix. 

But if she’s honest..

Tobin looks like she’s about to _make it_ that simple to fix.

“ _Hi baby_ ,” she coos into Nemo’s fur, and it’s been too long for him, too.

Especially if the way he’s jumped into her face with his wet nose six times is anything to go by. 

“I missed you, too,” she whispers to him before he’s over it and making a run down the hallway to the smell of food. She doesn’t blame him, her dad made chocolate chip pancakes and bacon this morning, she gets it.

“Happy.. Christmas Eve?” Tobin grins happily, her arms filled with four boxes that are wrapped.. _definitely by her,_ and Christen bites her lip at the thought. 

They’re all wrapped with the same Christmas Mickey Mouse wrapping paper, and she can see Tobin’s name scribbled sloppily with a sharpie on the side of them. 

Her heart jumps around her chest at whats to come tomorrow morning, and reminds herself that she’s probably too old now to shake boxes by her ears to figure out what’s in them. 

“Happy Christmas Eve,” Christen smiles softly at her, making room in the doorway before Tobin is carefully making her way in, and the way the shirt fits around her shoulders as her arms wrap around the presents well.. 

_This is just not going to work for Christen if she doesn’t go blind quickly._

“I- um..” Tobin starts with a slight grimace as she starts kicking off her sneakers. “I know it’s Christmas and that’s why I’m here and.. I know you probably still need space, so if you need me to back off or go home, I-“

“Tobin,” Christen shakes her head with soft confusion, “I want you here.”

Maybe it should be reassuring to her that Tobin cares if she’s uncomfortable with her being here, but if she’s honest, it doesn’t have her feeling all that good.

She can’t put her finger on why, though.

Tobin nods slowly, almost like she’s wanting to say something else as she pulls at the bottom button of her shirt as best she can with the presents in her arms, but she doesn’t. 

Christen doesn’t have much time to sit in the hallway with her, because she can smell that Tobin is freshly showered now, fresh soap and whatever fragrance she’s wearing.

She doesn’t know when Tobin gave up paint stained tee shirts and ripped jeans for holidays, but she won’t pretend she doesn’t like this, too. 

The truth of the matter is, she’s attracted to Tobin in every form, she’s probably been since she could ever understand what that really was.

She just wonders how much thought was put into this and why she bothers when she could just show up in a trash bag and Christen would look at her the same way. 

Maybe it has nothing to do with her. 

The thought that it might sure does feel good, though. 

“Presents!” Tyler gasps at the sight of new gifts to put under the tree, and before Christen can give her a scolding look over Tobin’s shoulder, she’s already blinking at the bad gift wrap job. 

It’s rough, she knows it’s rough. It looks like Tobin brought them to the nearest preschool and let them go at it as she taped it for them, but she can see the effort, and that’s all that matters.

To her credit if she noticed, Tobin doesn’t say anything as they walk to the living room together while Tyler tells her about the movies that are on and tries to figure out which gift is hers.

They all know she just wants to shake it by her ear, just like Christen does, but Tobin holds on just a little tighter with squinting eyes, and they know they have no chance. 

Christen gets Tyler back later anyway, a small shove when Tobin is happily placing her gifts under the tree.

And when one of the _prettily_ _wrapped_ Mickey Mouse presents go on Christen’s side, it takes everything in her to stay in her spot and ignore it. 

It helps when her dad is bringing Tobin into one of his bear hugs by the tree after she’s done, it’s definitely a good distraction from it all. 

It’s really starting to feel like Christmas now.

∞

It takes two Christmas movies, a shared blanket, and the smell of cookies behind them to finally feel Tobin relax.

She gets it, why she was a little on edge earlier, a million different emotions clouding her eyes with a small fire desperately trying to break out.

She feels like she’s almost there now, all of the confusion gone and replaced with contentment. 

Of course, Christen sort of knew she would feel better as soon as the Grinch started playing, that _is_ why she chose it next.

“God,” Tobin whispers sadly, “they were so mean to him.” 

And they were, they really were.

The part of the movie when the Grinch is a much younger little Grinch and is being made fun of in school is playing in front of them, much to Tobin’s demise for now.

Christen turns her head to rest her cheek against the couch cushion as she nods in agreement towards her.

“He gets his happy ending, though,” Christen reminds her in a whisper as she watches Tobin nod, eyes still firm on the movie before she mimics Christen’s position. 

“Would you live there?” Tobin whispers with a curious grin, and Christen bites her lip as she thinks about it. She doesn’t know if she would want to live in the small Christmas town in the movie. 

She imagines she would.

“I think so,” she nods against the cushion, Tobin following her eyes closely, “if I didn’t have to shovel the snow every day,” she shrugs.

She doesn’t know what the weather is like in Whoville, but if she remembers correctly, it’s a whole lot of snow, and watching it fall prettily must be much different than the maintenance.

“I’d do it for you,” Tobin smiles at her with a toothy grin, and Christen’s laugh is quick and full, because there’s no way Tobin would want to be shoveling snow. 

Tobin is definitely meant to be somewhere warm where she can feel sand beneath her toes and be in the water all year round.

She could go on forever about it, but Tobin is definitely meant to be here. 

“Why are you laughing?” Tobin whispers offended, “I’d do it for you.” 

“You don’t like the cold,” Christen laughs softly, naturally moving closer to her as she shakes her head knowingly. “You wouldn’t last three seconds.”

“I would shovel the hell out of that snow for you,” Tobin challenges quiet but fierce, a fire back in her eyes. “And you know it.”

Christen hums as she pulls the blanket closer to her side, she can see the mirth behind it, light but still serious.

She’s biting her laugh back as she thinks about Tobin shoveling snow somewhere, cold and miserable, and it just doesn’t sit right with her.

But she does know it, doesn’t she, Tobin would definitely be out there shoveling snow for her if she asked, just like she would for her.

She would just have to ask.

Just like she has to ask the questions she needs answers to now.

It’s just, the thought of Tobin not knowing the answers to the questions is really sort of terrifying, and that part has her never wanting to ask them at all.

The thought of Tobin cowering away at the questions the way she did when they were younger and she’d even _mention_ the word soulmates, it’s not exactly comforting. 

And then there’s this _thing_ she’s been trying to figure out since she got here. This thing she can’t explain but has her feeling uneasy, something about the way Tobin is putting space between them. 

She doesn’t like it, she doesn’t like it at all.

She knows she asked for space, and she appreciates that she’s been given just that, and maybe it’s irrational, but something about the way Tobin has just surrendered to everything else bothers her. 

Something about the way there’s only bursts of a fire in her eyes throughout the day instead of a burning desire that won’t let up. 

She wouldn’t be able to explain it, but she just wants her to.. do something. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s been spaced out with her eyes on Tobin by the time she finally realizes fierce cinnamon eyes are waiting for her to snap out of it. 

She wishes more than anything she could figure out what this look is, because it’s different, it’s so different.

She just can’t put her finger on it, but before she can think more about it, her body is entirely frozen except for the hot touch that’s making it’s way down her arm.

Tobin is softly trailing her finger up and down her forearm, and Christen thinks she’s going to need to call an ambulance because her heart is beating so fast it almost hurts. 

_She thinks maybe Tobin really can read her mind._

She can feel it now, the heat from Tobin’s stare and _this_ is exactly what she wants.

Whatever this is, she wants more of this. It feels like Tobin is fighting against something, and before she can let the thought settle deeper into her mind, her body refocuses on nothing but the touch as she stares just as fiercely back. 

Their foreheads are so close where they rest against the couch cushion now, and Christen knows Tobin can feel the sharp intakes of breath she’s taking in to keep herself calm. 

Tobin is doing it to bring her back down to earth, to get her attention, she knows that, it’s just, the way she’s doing it so slow and gentle with her fingertips has her thinking of one specific night. 

_  
The feeling of Tobin’s warm hands against her naked back feels like lava slowly dripping down her spine, and she wants to fall into it entirely._

_She wants to jump right into it all, she doesn’t even care if it turns her into dust._

_She wants to write songs and poems and all sorts of books about the way Tobin’s lips slowly move around her own.  
_

_They’ve never done this before, not once, yet it feels like she’s been here a million times, and maybe she has in her dreams, but this is real._

_Tobin’s skin is so soft and warm wherever her fingers go, around her shoulders, behind her neck, eventually where they find the space below her belly where goosebumps follow her._

_When Tobin lays them down with an arm securing her around her back, she wouldn’t expect it with all the places her hands could be, but her thumb is immediately behind her ear, stroking patterns hot and soft._

_She doesn’t know what she should do with her own hands first, not really, she can’t really think straight at all, mostly just trying to somehow meld their bodies into one.  
_

_She just knows the weight of Tobin’s body feels like it’s the only thing keeping her from floating away._

_She just knows she never wants to leave this moment._

The feeling of Tobin’s forehead falling against her own lightly has her eyes flying open with a small gasp for air like she just woke up from a bad dream. 

It wasn’t bad, it’s just, she doesn’t think about that night, not really.

She tries not to, because how could she think about it without remembering what it was like to wake up only hours later and watch her dreams turn into ash right in front of her. 

She’s still resting against Tobin, and she’s breathing in her exhales, and _they’re so close,_ she should just ask, or maybe tell her she likes this look in her eyes. She should just say something, say _anything_ , tell her-

“Cookies are ready!” Her dads voice has them both moving like a spider fell from hell between them. 

It’s Tobin’s fault really, who starts a moment during a family movie on the living room couch?

She thinks they’re good for a second, that nobody noticed _whatever the hell_ that was, Tyler is still completely entranced by the movie. Channing is happily in the chair with her book, everything is good.

Except when she meets Nemo’s protective and judgmental eyes on the other end of the couch, she almost thinks about asking him what his problem is.

_He probably wouldn’t answer, though._

_Since he’s a dog._

When everyone starts to get up and make their way to the kitchen, she makes sure to whisper defensively to him anyway, letting everyone go ahead of her.

_Since she’s about to speak to a dog, and all that._

“ _What_?” She hisses at him defensively, “ _that was her fault_.”

He lays his head back down tiredly on the couch, and she swears if he knew to roll his eyes, he would. She gets it, she wants this whole thing to be figured out already, too.

When she meets Tobin’s judgmental blinking stare ahead of her, well, she pretends she didn’t just hear that.

∞

“Nope, absolutely not,” Tyler announces from her spot at the end of the kitchen island, “we’re not doing favoritism this year, no way.”

“Favoritism?” Her dad questions, clearly offended by the accusation.

“There is no way that _this_ ,” Tyler picks up Tobin’s simple gingerbread man cookie with two eyes and some buttons, “is better than my detailed snow globe cookie.”

Tobin blinks at her with a sarcastic hum before taking her cookie back, with just the tiniest bit of aggression. “Rules are rules, Ty, take the L.”

“Okay, Chris, you’re the last vote.” Tyler switches her attention to Christen for her final vote, and before Christen can even say a word, Tyler’s already grunting in defeat.

She already knows she’s going to give the winning point to Tobin, so why even ask.

“I made a whole freaking village on my cookie!” Tyler squeaks defensively. 

She’d feel bad about it, she would, the snow globe cookie is pretty detailed, she has to admit. It’s just, Tobin’s dopey grin is on full display now, and she’s helpless to it. 

_It’s a great gingerbread man, really, it is._

“This system is rigged,” Tyler scoffs into a bite of one of the sugar cookies as Christen chuckles into her milk. She doesn’t know what Tyler really expected, really, she doesn’t.

Tobin always wins the cookie decorating contest.

She’s just so good at making little blue eyes and tiny red frosted smiles, the same red frosting that’s at the very corner of her mouth when she sneaks some in between thoughtful hums.

“Okay,” her dad announces softly before doing his little jog to the living room to receive Tobin’s stocking for her. “Stocking time.” 

Tobin’s breathy laugh at his excitement is small and fond, and Christen just wants to get the little red frosting stain off the side of her mouth with her finger.

Luckily, Tobin is one step ahead of her as she wipes it with her thumb before making her way over to the living room.

_Maybe Christen can get it next year._

She thinks back to the question she’s thought about since this morning, feeling like she has an even more specific answer for it now. 

How long is too long to be away from your soulmate? 

However long it’s been since she last saw Tobin standing in her living room with a soft smile by the fireplace and her stocking in hand.

_That’s just way too fucking long._

She watches with her arms crossed behind the couch as Tobin meets her eyes happily, ready to put it up above the fireplace, almost like she’s waiting for permission. 

Christen nods with a bite to her lip, because that spot has been vacant for far too long, and she really can’t look at it empty another second.

The sight of adult Tobin putting her same little shark stocking up next to Christen’s own above the fireplace makes her chest feel as full as it can get for the night. 

Except, like every other time she’s assumed it was too full to make room for anything else, Tobin proves her wrong as she makes her way to a small bag she brought with her gifts under the tree.

She pulls out the tiniest stocking she’s ever seen, and Christen has to bite her lip to keep it together as she watches Tobin’s hopeful eyes meet her dads.

“Can um..” Tobin’s laugh is shy and embarrassed, and Christen think’s she’s going to die. “Can I put one up for Nemo?” 

“Of course you can,” her dad answers softly, quickly pointing to the extra hook next to Tobin’s, and Tobin is nodding so shyly, she doesn’t think this could possibly get any cuter.

Except, as usual, Tobin proves her wrong when she excitedly makes her way to Nemo and gives him permission to jump up as she lifts him into his arms carefully.

He pulls up his legs like he’s just a little shrimp now as she holds him steady in her left arm, and he looks like he does this all the time, and the thought has Christen grinning. 

It feels so much like a dream, Christen has to blink to figure out if she can wake up as she watches them with as much love she can hold in her eyes.

Nemo is definitely too big to be looking like _that much_ of a baby in Tobin’s arms as she hangs up his small stocking with his name on it. 

But here he is, cuddled up into her happily like a poodle as he pants happy breaths into the air. 

_Of course Tobin got him a stocking, he’s Nemo._

He’s Tobin’s Nemo, her found family.

The thought brings an overwhelming burst of emotions in her, Tobin is to Nemo what her mom was to Tobin, and the knowledge has her blowing out a quiet emotional breath at how far she’s come.

After Tobin whispers her thanks to her dad as she puts him back down, she looks up to find Christen’s soft watching eyes with a small grin, and she’s never wanted to be part of another family so bad in her entire life.

“Don’t you two stay up too late now, or Santa won’t come,” he lightly scolds them for what he knows they’re going to do anyway. 

He’s bringing Tobin into a goodnight hug with a quick kiss to her cheek as Christen watches with a scoff where she bends to rest against the back of the couch and waits for her own.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers with a kiss to her forehead when he pulls away, and she whispers it back happily, because it’s going to be a good one, she knows it as she watches him happily walk up the stairs.

When she looks back to Tobin, she has a teasing look on her face, and Christen knows exactly what’s coming.

“We’re totally gonna catch Santa this year,” Tobin jokes in a whisper shout as Christen laughs happily at her, remembering all the nights they tried so hard to do just that.

They might as well try again, just in case he’s slow enough this year.

∞

As she knew they would, they end up on the kitchen floor sitting side by side, a plate full of soft frosted cookies slowly becoming less full as it passes midnight.

The way Tobin laughs around a mouth full of soft sugar cookies is a memory she never forgot to begin with, but she’s storing even more information about it now.

“Stop eating all the pink ones,” Christen pleads quietly with a small laugh, “you know they’re the only ones I eat.”

“They all taste the same,” Tobin whispers quick before she bursts into judgmental laughter towards her, and Christen is fully ready for this battle.

“I can taste the difference,” she mumbles around the cookie, not giving Tobin the satisfaction of reading her three page pink frosting defense essay just yet. 

“It’s the same frosting in different colors, it’s in your head,” Tobin leans against the cabinet defeated, knowing she’s not going to win the argument. 

“The pink ones taste different,” Christen mumbles before she swallows, “you can taste the pink.” Tobin hums sarcastically with a nod against the cabinet as she squints her eyes.

“You can taste color? Tobin whispers, “we should get you on America’s got talent, and quick, before anybody else does it.”

“It’s called a _palate_ , and I have a good one.” 

“Okay,” Tobin sits up to grab the plate between them and before Christen can scold her for taking her cookies away, she’s moving around to face her. 

“Close your eyes.”

Christen shakes her head sternly, not wanting to be a part of this, she doesn’t have to prove herself, _she can taste pink, she knows it._

“Close your eyes,” Tobin requests softer with a laugh, “come on.”

“Nope, I don’t want to play.”

“Because you know you can’t tell the difference.”

“I can,” Christen lightly pushes at her chest.

“Go ahead, then.” Tobin chuckles, “close your eyes.”

Christen groans against the cabinet, knowing she’s going to have to do this at least once, just to prove it once and for all.

She’s not worried, she can totally taste the difference, it’s easy. She sighs with a nod and closes her eyes tightly as she motions impatiently at Tobin’s movements with her hand, because she’s going way too slow. 

“Ok,” Tobin’s laugh is closer to her, and she knows she’s so close, and she just wishes she could figure out what she’s up to. She better not play any tricks on her.

If she gives her two pink cookies, she figures she’d get one right anyway, and she’d still be right somehow. 

Kinda.

“Ready?” Tobin’s voice is soft and pretty, but Christen is about to grab the damn cookie herself as she nods impatiently.

She’s offered a cookie gently, and she takes a small bite, really savoring the taste to figure it out, and it’s easy, it’s so easy.

“Pink.” 

An audible gasp fills the kitchen before she opens her eyes to see if she got it, and when she finds a blue cookie in front of her, she wants another try immediately.

“That’s not fair!” Christen squeaks in an aggressive whisper.

“ _I can taste all the colors of the rainbow_ ,” Tobin mocks, “ _frosting just speaks to me_.” 

“I literally never said either of those things and that doesn’t even sound like me,” Christen grabs the cookie from her hand, “I think you switched the cookies.” 

“You think I switched the cookies?” Tobin looks at her, clearly baffled. 

“Stick out your tongue.” 

“What?” Tobin squeals as Christen’s hands move to the sides of her mouth to pull them apart.

“What is my tongue going to help you with?” Tobin laughs as she moves out of her grasp with her hands on Christen’s wrists to stop her.

“If you have blue on your tongue, you bit the blue one and switched it,” Christen reasons with challenging eyebrows, “I’m onto you.”

“No way, you think I’m that clever?” Tobin laughs so hard tears gather by her eyes.

“Stick out your tongue,” Christen requests around a tired laugh from fighting Tobin’s grip around her wrists.

Tobin eventually complies happily, confident it won’t be blue, but when she does, they’re both apparently in for a surprise.

“It’s blue!” Christen squeals with an accusatory finger pointing at her and Tobin’s face is immediately scrunched in bizarre defense.

“It’s from the cookies I ate earlier!” Tobin gapes at her at the way she turned this whole thing around on purpose, and Christen shakes her head with a mocking judgmental hum. 

“Heath, you play a dirty game, you know that?” Christen continues to shake her head and rest back against the cabinet, “and here I was, believing you just wanted to put me on a talent show.” 

“I know what you’re doing,” Tobin grunts as she takes her spot next to her back, “and it’s not going to work, I know what you did.” 

“And I know what you did.” Christen smiles at her before she watches Tobin bring another cookie towards her face, and before she can stop it with her own hand on Tobin’s wrist, the frosting is already all over the side of her gaping mouth.

“What age do you think you’ll be when you stop starting food fights?” Christen asks before she grabs her own cookie to do the same, but Tobin is already ahead of her with a hand at her wrist.

_And she’s so close._

If she could just get it a _little closer,_ it could be all over Tobin’s eyebrow, she’s just got to be just a _little_ stronger, and she’s got this.

“Tobin!” Christen squeaks, “you have to let me!” 

“No, I don’t!” Tobin is laughing a deep belly laugh as she falls to her side bringing Christen’s hand with her, still fighting against it. 

When the laughing becomes too hard for Tobin to keep all her strength going, Christen basks in the feeling of sliding blue frosting all over Tobin’s eyebrow and down to her cheek, right to the corner of her mouth before she feels Tobin eat it.

“Idiot,” Christen scoffs, letting her finish the cookie with a hum where she lays on the floor.

“Look at the mess you made.” She sits back against the counter as Tobin brings herself back up on her own.

“Santa is going to be _so_ _mad_ when he looks for his cookies,” Tobin whines softly, almost like she’s entirely serious and Christen blows out a sleepy laugh of surrender as she stares at the empty plate.

“Do I have anything on my face?” Tobin looks like she’s asking seriously as she sits up and moves her way back into her space beside her.

Christen shakes her head with a laugh that makes her stomach hurt at the sight of Tobin looking like a literal Cookie Monster. 

She finds a dish towel from the spot above her head on the counter and hands it to her as a truce before she watches her carefully get it all out of her eye, and she thinks about helping, but she doesn’t.

She lets the moment become a comfortable silence as they both rest against the cabinet. The feeling of the cool, soft material of Tobin’s sleeve rests against her too hot skin where their shoulders touch, and it feels heavenly. 

She closes her eyes with her head back, thinking of all the things she should be saying, and all of the things she felt throughout the day.

She can do this now, she doesn’t have to be scared.

If Tobin doesn’t have the answers and she isn’t ready, then she has to make the right decision this time.

She knows what it’s like to make the wrong one, when they were younger and she knew Tobin wasn’t quite ready yet as she gave in, anyway.

She should have listened to her, all the clues she gave, all the words she did and didn’t say, she should have listened. 

She’s got it now. 

“Talk to me,” Tobin whispers to her with her head resting against the cabinet, and the breath that Christen takes in at the words feels like it put a balloon in her chest that could stay filled or deflate.

It could be anywhere from a casual request to a weak pry, but Christen doesn’t miss the small plea in her tone, so she goes with the latter. 

She finds the fire in Tobin’s eyes again.

The same one she’s seen throughout the day that comes and goes, and she still doesn’t exactly know what it is, but she knows she likes it when the fire overtakes everything else.

She’s not the hardest person to read, especially when there’s a lot on her mind, so she knows it wasn’t exactly hard to figure it out, but it still feels nice the way she knows how to ask. 

She wants to unleash everything she has, from small thoughts to big ones, but she’s weary of if Tobin can handle all of it. 

She shakes her head at the thought, because that’s the whole point to figuring out if she’s ready or not, isn’t it?

So she thinks of what to say with a small shrug, trying to figure out where to start, but Tobin’s hand is slow and steady as it reaches out for her jaw. 

And if Tobin thinks this will make words come out faster.. 

_Well, she’s wrong._

“What can I do?” Tobin whispers, her thumb gently stroking the soft skin across her cheek, so light she can barely feel it, but she does, because it’s Tobin, and she’d feel every touch from her. 

Christen swallows nervously, mostly in anticipation, because it sounds like Tobin really wants to help.

She really wants to fix this. 

_She’s trying._

Christen feels as ready to ask her as she’s been all day, the small fire in Tobin’s eyes helping ignite her, but as soon as she’s ready to speak, she realizes what she’s been looking for all day.

 _This_ fire in Tobin’s eyes.

It’s her fight.

It’s what has her finally asking Christen what she can do to help, and Christen finally gets what she needs.

She needs _this_ , she needs Tobin to fight.

It’s exactly what’s bothered her all day, the way Tobin just tends to surrender to whatever is going to happen, Tobin has to want this the same way Christen does.

Maybe she’s trying to show her she does now.

She feels like for the first time in a long time, they’re so very close to something, so she swallows her fear down and replaces it with hope, and she says what she needs to know.

“I need to know what’s different this time,” she breathes a shaky breath, almost like her body is rejecting the words out of fear, but they come out anyway. 

The words that come out of Tobin’s mouth next could make or break them, she knows it very well. 

Tobin looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, like she doesn’t quite understand the question she has to answer, and Christen waits as patient as she can for her to get it.

Eventually, Tobin’s soft nod of understanding is filled with determination, and the fire is still strong in her eyes, and the knowledge has Christen breathing steadily again. 

She’s different this time.

“I get it now,” Tobin whispers to her, her thumb strong and steady as it continues its patterns across the mark that already proves _this_ is it for them. 

“That’s what’s different,” Christen watches pretty eyes glisten in the low lights of her kitchen on Christmas Eve, and it feels different.

Everything feels different. 

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” Tobin’s eyes are fierce as she says it, and Christen would believe her without it all, because Tobin is a lot of things, but she’s not a liar.

_She’s never been a liar._

The slow tears that escape Christen’s eyes are quickly brushed away by two warm thumbs, and it feels like it’s done with nothing short of unconditional love.

It’s different this time.

And when Tobin sits up straighter and moves up onto one of her knees and folds into herself to face her, she almost wants to shy away with how attentive she’s watching every movement of her own eyes.

But she doesn’t.

And the look in Tobin’s eyes is almost frantic now, it’s all desperation and fear, but she watches as she powers through it.

And _this_ is exactly what she’s always needed. 

“If I made too big of a mess here.. and you need to go, I won’t be mad,” Tobin shakes her head with a strong bite to her lip, and Christen knows exactly what she’s biting back.

“I won’t be mad at you, Chris, but-“ Tobin lets something close to a whimper out and Christen almost falls apart at the sight, but she keeps her eyes open and on her. 

Her body moves on instinct to get to her, but Tobin’s hands are firm where they hold her face, so she stays in her spot.

“If you stay.. I’ve got you this time.” Tobin whispers it like a prayer. “ _I promise_.” 

Christen nods with her, wet eyes closed, trying to let all the leftover pain of the last few years finally dissipate.

Tobin _has_ her this time, she wouldn’t lie to her. 

Tobin has never lied to her.

Not once.

She only has the energy to make a small gesture of grabby hands to get Tobin closer to her before she feels her closing the distance.

She couldn’t have known that this was where they were going to end up when she was offering a much smaller version of the love of her life frosted animal cookies.

But if she did know they were going to end up in their twenties on the kitchen floor of her childhood home in tears on Christmas Eve, well, she would have been awfully confused.

But boy, would she be happy to know she would be held tightly in Tobin’s strong arms across her lap with desperate hopeful kisses being pressed into her hair as she falls asleep against her chest.

_She’s got her._


	15. Rescue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they just love stars

_“Tobin.”_

_“One minute, please.”_

_“Tobin, I know what you’re doing.”_

_“No you don’t.”_

_“Yes I do, you’re going to scare me, and it’s-“_

_“No I’m not,” Tobin sighs out a laugh, “I promise.”_

_Christen huffs into her hands where she keeps her eyes closed on the floor against her bed, and she can hear some ruffling now.  
_

_Tobin wouldn’t lie to her, but maybe she’s telling half truths._

_Maybe she isn’t going to scare her exactly, maybe it’s a surprise pet tarantula or something that will gross her out instead._

_Why else would she have to give Christen her Christmas gift alone after they already opened everything earlier with their family?_

_It’s probably a snake, God, she’d really cry if it was a snake in her room. Then again, why would Tobin be unwrapping a snake?_

_“Okay,” Tobin breathes, finally ready apparently. “Open.”_

_She opens her eyes to big nervous blinking ones, and when she looks down to find red tissue paper below a couple of painted rocks, she lets out a happy breath of relief._

_“You painted these?” Christen asks softly as she picks them up one by one to examine them, but she didn’t need to ask really, she knows she did._

_The one rock that’s painted perfectly like Nemo the fish really doesn’t leave much room for questioning.  
_

_They’re so carefully painted and detailed, she feels like she’s holding a real life in her hands with each one._

_“Yeah,” Tobin breathes next to her on the floor, the gray wool reindeer socks her mom got Tobin for Christmas fresh on her feet against her leg._

_“I didn’t know how to wrap them, I know it’s not much, but..” she trails off and Christen is immediately hitting her shoulder fondly with her own._

_Christen’s eyes finally become familiar with them as she realizes it’s three rocks and they’re all painted with some of her favorite things from her childhood._

_There’s one painted like Nemo, one that’s a pretty night sky color with stars painted around it, and one with a perfectly shaped animal cookie, painted in a perfect soft pink._

_It’s like the story of their lives together painted on rocks, and Christen naturally leans her head on her shoulder as she studies them with careful fingers._

_It’s the best gift she’s ever gotten, and she doesn’t even know how to explain it to her._

_“I love them,” Christen whispers against her shoulder, the pad of her index finger moving around the texture of the night stars. “Thank you.”_

_She feels Tobin nod against her, and they’re only sixteen, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever get a better Christmas gift than this._

_She doesn’t know what Tobin is thinking in this quiet moment on her bedroom floor on Christmas morning, all she knows is she hopes she’s thinking the same thing as her._

_I love you._   
  


“It’s Christmas!” 

Christen shoots up from the couch with a sharp gasp at being woken up by Tyler’s obnoxious voice. 

Unfortunately, before she can get anything situated, Tobin is scrambling off the floor where she rolled off the couch and is standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

When she looks to where Tobin’s eyes are wide and focused, she meets Tyler’s obnoxiously smug face as she looks between them.

It doesn’t look good, she’ll admit.

Tobin is entirely disheveled, as gorgeous as she may be, she looks like she was put through a car wash or two this morning, having not been able to even brush her teeth yet.

And Christen is no better, she feels like she’s having a hangover, probably from how late they stayed up and how much she cried. 

She really hopes no major crimes happened last night in town, because if so, the way they look this morning, Tyler would probably turn them in.

She internally shrugs at the thought, because she _would_ probably be the Robin to Tobin’s Superman, or whatever. 

“As long as you didn’t.. you know,” Tyler starts with a grimace, “on the couch” she ends with a shrug. 

Christen curses under her breath as she falls back onto the couch with a tired sigh, because it is _far_ too early for Tyler to be existing right now. 

They definitely did absolutely nothing but sleep on the couch last night after Tobin had woken her up and she had followed her sleepily for her lower backs sake. 

Even though she has a memory foam mattress a few feet away in her room. 

_She digresses._

She hears Tobin huff the same as her before sitting back down further away from her. And she’s just lucky she’s used to her sister already, having had to deal with her most of her life. 

The sound of Tyler making coffee in the kitchen leaves them in a comfortable silence as Christen keeps her arm over her eyes to ease into the morning. It’s not exactly easy being woken up like that, and it’s not exactly impossible she didn’t pee herself a little.

It’s just..

“ _It’s Christmas_ ,” Christen sits up in a gasp as the pillows fall off of her, and Tyler is looking at her with her arms out in the kitchen because yeah, she did just say that didn’t she? 

The sound of Nemo’s paws on the floor are almost as quick as Tobin’s guttural grunt as he jumps onto her from where he was sleeping in the corner.

She wonders why he didn’t just sleep with them, but the knowledge that there was probably not much room between them hits her like a buff reindeer in the snow. 

“Good morning,” Tobin whispers happily to him as he settles onto his back against her chest. He’s licking her face behind him as she rubs his belly, and they look like they do this every morning.

Tobin really should pretend better in front of people if she’s going to pretend she doesn’t coddle him like everyone else. 

She want’s to continue to watch quietly with careful eyes, really, she does, it sounds like the best way to spend her morning, but he’s already moving at the sound of Tyler opening the fridge. 

It doesn’t take much apparently, just a little hunger in his belly and he’s gone as she watches Tobin’s offended scowl before she gets up to put the pillows that have fallen back onto the couch. 

Christen watches her carefully from where she’s still laying on her side, and there’s something so infuriatingly pretty about this scruffy version of her. 

Her shirts wrinkled and untucked, her hair is messy and her face is rid of any worry, and Christen knows the only thing that’s missing is her glasses she only wears in the morning.

She just wishes she would have brought them.

By the time she realizes Tobin is looking back at her, it’s too late to take the fondness out of her eyes, so she chooses to just leave it as Tobin shoots it right back to her with a grin.

“Merry Christmas,” Tobin whispers with a quick soft touch of her index finger to her nose where she watches on above her.

Christen’s natural reaction is to close her eyes when she feels the touch, but she just wishes more than anything that she wouldn’t have. 

“Okay, okay,” she hears her dads voice coming down the stairs as Tyler grunts dramatically at how long he takes to make his way downstairs Christmas morning. 

She especially remembers it feeling like _ages_ as a child. 

Christmas was the one day a year none of them could stay in bed past eight, running out of their rooms and headed to jump on their parents.

Her mom would always grunt tiredly to the rhythm of their bouncing feet until she would wrap them up into Christmas cuddles. 

The years Tobin spent Christmas with them, she’d usually watch with a happy grin, usually on her dads side where Channing was impatiently moving his shoulder. 

Tobin usually was just into Christmas morning for the hot cocoa they’d get with their pancakes, and her dad was her favorite chef.

The memory never fails to make Christen blow out a fond laugh at the girls priorities.

“Breakfast first, then gifts,” he smiles at them as he starts to get the breakfast stuff out, much to Tobin’s excitement and Christen’s demise as she grunts dramatically on the couch.

She figures she should probably brush her teeth and get some fresh clothes on anyway.

When she finally makes it up, Nemo is happily panting at her dads side, definitely working his best eyes to get some extra bits of food, and Tobin looks ready as ever right next to her favorite mug for her cocoa. 

It’s almost unbelievable to Christen how much can change in so many years but how much can still stay exactly the same. 

She just wishes her mom were here to see the scene of them all together in the kitchen, especially Nemo. 

She wishes her mom could have met Nemo.

She would have loved him.

_That is why-_

“What happened to all the cookies?” Tyler asks puzzled as she looks at the empty plate with blue frosting smears. 

Christen blinks from her spot at the front of the kitchen island and shrugs professionally as she watches Tobin do the same. 

She wouldn’t dare tell them, but it’s totally Tobin’s fault.

The cookies are long forgotten after a couple of confused looks in the kitchen followed by small shrugs, and the sounds of the bacon sizzling on the griddle fills the room with the Christmas playlist. 

And it’s as Christmas as Christmas can get, minus the one singing woman that would be dancing with a spatula in hand. 

By the time Channing is finally downstairs from all the noise being made, she’s about to go get cleaned up before breakfast when she realizes she should probably ask Tobin, too. 

It’s just, Tobin is totally lost in the chaos as she watches Tyler try to mix pancake batter tiredly as she follows her dads instructions between singing Christmas music. 

She probably shouldn’t, but she thinks that all the time, and she’s tired of thinking it, so she does it without doubting it.

They may not have everything figured out, but they’re okay now, they can be like they were. 

She can do the things she used to with her, now.

They can do that. 

She gets her attention carefully by bringing her arm around her shoulder and across her chest with a soft _hey_ , and she feels Tobin respond to it immediately as she stills before relaxing into her loose hold. 

“Do you want clean clothes?” She whispers close to her ear, just in case she can’t hear her over all the ruckus. And also maybe just because she likes to breathe her in. She watches her nod, and on her way up to her room, it feels as easy as it did when they were younger. 

She just forgot one thing as she opens the door. 

“Wow,” Tobin’s voice is small and soft.

Tobin hasn’t been in here in years. 

And Christen hasn’t really changed anything in this room since they were in high school, her shelves have the same nicknacks, her drawers have the same clothes, her bed has the same pillows. 

And that means all of those things, much like her life, still is entirely surrounded by all things Tobin.

Her rocks are still on her shelves, her favorite books as a kid are still in her cubby, she has drawings still hung up from when Tobin was too small to know gluing them to the walls with her was a bad idea. 

_She just wanted her to have them forever._

She remembers that being said in a much smaller and guiltier voice that only Tobin could recreate. 

She doesn’t know it yet, but her joggers and hoodies from junior year are still stuffed in her bottom clothes bin under the bed.

Some of her hats left and forgotten are still hung up behind her closet door where she’d collect them, but she hasn’t dared touch them.

She apparently decides the best way to handle the curious way Tobin is looking around her room is to totally ignore it as she finds clean clothes for the day. 

She figures there’s no use in hiding her own clothes from her if she already _knows_ she kept everything else the same as she goes to her closet to get them.

Tobin is still curiously moving around as she softly presses her fingers to the things on her shelves and walls, as if she can relive the memories with a touch.

_But she can’t._

Christen already tried that.

She always liked her room simple and clean, something not a lot of teenagers were quite into then, she didn’t like the clutter or even a whole lot of color she couldn’t change. She wanted a big comfy bed for nights shared with her favorite human, and walls that could be filled with whatever Tobin had given her.

That’s all she wanted.

It’s all she still wants, so she never changed it. 

She just hopes Tobin doesn’t find the one thing she did change, because how does she explain a total meltdown with a scraper and a stepladder not too long ago. 

When she opens the bottom bin in her closet to the drawer that was entirely dedicated to things Tobin would leave behind, she’s not pleased to learn that her sweatpants still feel the same.

And maybe to anybody else, it would be weird that she’s about to smell them, especially with the knowledge that Tobin is somewhere behind her, but it’s not exactly what it looks like.

It’s just, they don’t know what detergent her mom used to use all the time, but these are cleaned with the same one, and the smell of it has her eyes squeezed tightly immediately. 

She’s bought every single detergent that the stores have to offer, she swears it, but she doesn’t know which one this is, and the smell is too faint for anybody to know, now.

“Franky the flashlight,” Tobin’s laugh is full of shock and wonder, and Christen’s huff is tinged with embarrassment, but there’s nothing she can do.

When she turns around with clothes for her, Tobin is sitting on her bed with her flashlight, looking at it as if it’s going to tell her it’s alive or something. 

“God, these batteries went forever, didn’t they?” Tobin blows out an excited laugh at finding the nostalgic light from their childhood.

The transparent blue flashlight had seen just as much as the stars did of their nights together, a countless number of nights spent playing shadow puppets and telling stories under blankets.

She always had it by her bed, no matter how old she got, just for when Tobin would come over.

Christen decides not to tell her about the first night she had used the flashlight to turn slowly on and off in tears after Tobin had left like she’d come back to play one more game with her.

“It still works,” Christen informs her softly as she sits next to her on her bed, with Tobin’s clothes in her lap. 

Tobin looks at her skeptically before figuring it out for herself against the wall, and the happy gasp of amazement she lets out easily brings a grin to Christen’s face.

“There’s no light like this,” Tobin shakes her head with a smile. Christen already knows it’s true, she’s tried to recreate it on the ceiling in the room of her apartment by school with a million different flashlights.

“Here,” she hands her the clothes that Tobin curiously accepts, waiting for the questions, but they don’t come. She just receives a grateful nod and a soft smile, and she knows Tobin understands it’s all a little too much for her.

There’s many times when she’s been over the moon about Tobin understanding the silent things, but this is one of the times she feels most grateful for.

It’s just a little too much having her in here, in the same place she was when they were kids, but mostly from the last night Tobin had ever spent here in her bed. 

She doesn’t know how it works, how a billion memories of big smiles and illuminated eyelashes under blankets could ever be washed away by one bad moment. 

She wonders if Tobin feels the sadness of it all seeped into her walls, too, or if the happy memories entirely swallow that whole and wash it away. 

It’s a toss up for Christen, some nights she sees the good, some nights she sees the bad, it’s a coin toss for her, but she realizes in this moment, all of their times here were actually good for Tobin.

She thinks maybe she got to leave the bad one behind for Christen to sleep with every night. 

It doesn’t anger her anymore, not really, she just mourns for the girl that was left to relive it every night until she left this room. 

She mourns for the girl who mourned everything she had lost in this room, from her mother to her soulmate.

She goes to get up slowly, going to get dressed and leave this room and go downstairs and make new memories that don’t have to hurt so bad, but she’s stopped by a strong arm. 

“Hey,” Tobin breathes, “what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Christen admits honestly, shaking her head and blinking stray tears away.

It’s Christmas, and she doesn’t know why she’s thinking about things that are in the past now. 

She sees the realization in Tobin’s eyes now, how different they were a second ago when she thought it was best left alone.

She’s as thankful as she is annoyed, because all of the sad stuff is going to ruin Christmas, so she lets her know as much. 

“It’s _Christmas_ ,” she whispers to her, determination definitely set into her eyes, because they _have_ to have a good Christmas.

They have everyone here for the first time in years. 

“We have time,” is all Tobin says before she’s putting her clothes down on the pillow and grabbing the soft plush blanket behind her. 

Tobin is softly encouraging her to fall down with her sideways across the bed, and it takes a second of fighting with herself, but she follows her, of course she follows her. 

And she’s thankful for it, because once she’s tucked away under the blanket with her, her tightly closed eyes are wet with tears that she would have held back all day.

_It’s all just a lot._

_Christmas, Tobin, her half packed duffle bag, her room, the stupid detergent, the woman missing in the Christmas harmony downstairs_.

_She just needs a minute, and she’ll be okay._

She just wishes the feeling of the soft pads of Tobin’s thumbs didn’t bring on more tears, is all.

The feeling of her forehead lightly coming to rest on her own helps, and taking in the exhales that she gives her definitely helps a little, too.

She gives her the moment and let’s it go for as long as she wants, and it goes so long she thinks she could fall back asleep, but eventually her dad is calling for them.

But she doesn’t mind.

She’s ready now.

∞

“Nemo, look what you got, baby,” Christen gasps happily down to him, taking the bone out of his stocking.

Handing it to him feels like it’s nothing compared to the wrapping paper he’s been playing with for the first half of the gift unwrapping, but it’s good enough. 

“Okay, for Christen from me next,” Tyler’s voice brings her back down to earth as she hands her the wrapped gift, and she doesn’t know what it is, but she hopes she won’t have to rush and put it back into the box with a grimace in front of her dad.

_Tyler doesn’t exactly have a good conscious._

She unwraps the box before pulling the top open, and it’s pretty, it’s really pretty. They’re her favorite color, a soft pink, and it’s all so soft, warm and fluffy, she could just sleep with them on.

She’s more than happy about it until she realizes the implications of it.

A scarf and gloves.

Because she‘s meant to leave tomorrow, and it’s cold there.

 _Right_. 

“Thank you, Ty,” she says softly as Tyler nods quietly with an awkward smile, and she pretends she doesn’t feel Tobin’s eyes on her, because it’ll be too hard to look at her today. 

She’s not putting off thinking about it, not really, there’s just not much to really think about anymore, it’s simple.

One option has Tobin, and the other doesn’t.

_How else is she meant to look at it?_

She just isn’t sure if she’s ready to say it all out loud just yet, but Tobin is good, she’s patient now. 

_She’s got her._

Just like she did upstairs earlier. 

“Okay, for Tobin from Channing next,” Tyler hands the wrapped cylinder gift to Tobin with a shit eating grin, and Christen bites her lip at the interaction.

They all already know what it is.

It was only a matter of time.

Tobin gives Channing a smile that could look totally real for everyone else, but Christen knows that smile is just trying to figure out how to look right now in the spotlight.

Maybe she’s enjoying this as much as Tyler, she’s not sure, at least, she wasn’t sure until she finds Tyler’s almost bouncing stance by the couch where she looks down at Tobin on the floor. 

They watch Tobin unwrap it with a million different carefully constructed emotions, and when it’s finally unwrapped, she thinks the only reason Tobin looks even semi excited is because of the orange color.

“A yoga mat,” Tobin whispers in some weird tone of excitement, “thanks Chan.” 

Channing, to everyone’s pleasure, looks entirely sold to Tobin’s reaction, and Christen swears it has her dad biting his laugh back for a second, too.

“Okay, Tobin’s presents are next, let’s do for Tyler from Tobin first,” Tyler shakes the box obnoxiously before she sits on the couch, and Christen shakes her head at the fact that she even made it that far without opening it.

“Tobin!” Tyler gasps as she opens her gift, “how did you know?” She watches as Tyler gets out her new band for her Apple Watch, she just doesn’t expect Tobin to look mildly confused.

“You texted me the link like four ti-“

“Such a good present, Toby, thank you,” Tyler cuts her off while Christen blows out a disbelieving laugh.

Of course Tyler pre texted what she wanted for Christmas.

_She does that._

Tobin shakes her head as she gets up to hand the rest of her gifts to Christen, Channing and her dad. She watches as Channing gives her a small hug for her pour over contraception for fresh coffee she knows she loves.

She doesn’t know what she expects her dad to open from her, but when he pulls out new golf gloves he needs but forgets to buy every time, she realizes Tobin really never forgot a single thing about them. 

When Christen’s opening her own and gently tearing at it as slowly as she can, she’s hoping it’s not something too sentimental, because she only got Tobin socks and some painting stuff.

It’s not exactly romantic, but it’s not supposed to be. 

She kept it casual.

And as she opens her gift from Tobin, she breathes a sigh of relief, because it’s a pretty candle set, and she loves it, and it’s not something that will make her cry. 

Candles are one of the few things that can always calm her down, the light flickering mixed with the calming smells, she could always use more, especially pretty ones like these. 

Especially if they’re from Tobin.

These will really be appreciated every time they’re lit. 

“Thank you,” she whispers to her soft and sweet beside her on the floor when everyone else is preoccupied cleaning up the gift paper and talking.

Tobin’s grin is almost as pretty as her eyes when she finds them, but she thinks maybe it was an unfair matchup to begin with. 

“Thank you for my gifts _and_ Nemo’s,” she lifts her chin towards Nemo where he’s rolling around in more wrapping paper in the corner on his designated pillow. 

The sight has Christen grinning immediately, mostly just happy he had a good Christmas.

It’s the least she could give him after all.

The day is mostly spent together in the living room, as most Christmas’ are, all of them in their own spots watching movies and drinking cocoa until the sun goes down.

Her most favorite part of the day ends up being the same part any Christmas Day was spent with Tobin.

The part where her body heat is shared with her own under a blanket on the same couch cushion, their soft Christmas socks brushing together throughout the day.

No matter how much has changed between them, it’s almost funny to her how they’re actually in the same place they were in years ago.

Christen still moving her feet around against her legs softly to see what reactions she gets out of her. Seeing how far she can get cuddled into her when she pretends to fall asleep against her.

The answer is still the same as it was when they were seventeen years old.

Tobin allows it all.

It’s just, this time, she feels Tobin’s legs do the same with her own as she lays against her, and _that_ has never really happened before.

She just wishes the day would slow down as it goes from golden light to tired baby blues. 

She finds that Christmas dinner is still especially nice when she can steal pieces of ham from Tobin’s plate, and she finds that cheesecake still isn’t good, except it is when Tobin feeds her a bite when nobody is looking, desperate to make her like it. 

She just sort of likes the idea of Tobin thinking she’s turned her opinion around on the dessert.

She also just kind of likes the way Tobin watches her lips take the bite from her fork.

_Christen’s only human, after all._

By the time the sky is turning into a royal blue and the house lights flicker on for the night, Nemo looks as exhausted as she’s ever seen him with his wrapping paper being used as a sheet. 

Everyone has slowly retired to their rooms with small hugs and when her dad is last to go before them with kisses to Tobin’s cheek, she’s especially happy to have the peace and quiet. 

It’s been a long day, especially emotionally, but it’s another Christmas under her belt, and it’s definitely one of the better ones.

Emotional times like these, she just wants to talk to her mom, so she whispers as much to Tobin before she follows her to sit by the edge of the pool.

It’s perfect like this.

The quiet night with the soft yellow lights around their yard, the illuminated blue water calmly existing in its most peaceful form under them. 

She doesn’t know what comes after this, what tomorrow will bring or what she’ll feel like this time next year, but she knows one thing.

_She’s going to be okay._

She feels Tobin’s leg behind her back where she sits at her side to face her, her eyes on the same things Christen’s are between the sky above them and the water below them.

The sounds of the night creatures are just a little quieter than usual, and they remind her that it’s still Christmas, and they’re probably just a little late tonight with their families. 

She thinks about how in most ways, this is exactly how she wanted Christmas to look when she was younger, minus the few missing pieces.

She has her family, still healthy and happy, there’s just a piece of it missing.

_Just the woman who brought her into the world part, she guesses._

She has the imprint of a fingerprint of the girl she had always dreamt of having on her body, there’s just a piece of it missing. 

_Just the Tobin fully being hers part, she guesses._

It’s not fun, no, but it’s survivable, it’s all survivable, and the rest she’s slowly figured out. 

She finds that she doesn’t focus on it as much when Tobin is physically around her, but she can always feel the comfortable warmth on the back of her neck.

Sometimes, though, sometimes she just wants to feel it to remember it’s there, that it really happened.

“It doesn’t burn, does it?” Tobin asks in a small voice as she watches Christen rub over it softly.

She shakes her head lightly, because no, it doesn’t burn, it hasn’t hurt her in quite some time now, she just wanted to feel it with her fingertips to remember it’s there. 

Tobin looks like she lets a small exhale of relief out of her nose as she blinks slowly with a nod, and Christen wonders if it’s a fear of hers now. If she’s scared of it burning ever again. 

She wonders if she feels the same way she does about it, sort of almost missing it in a way, it served as a reminder when she would forget sometimes that it was even there.

It’s not all that important, but she wonders anyway, just gentle curiosity. She’s just pleased to remember that she doesn’t have to wonder, she can ask now.

_Tobin will answer her._

“Will you miss it at all?” She asks softly, her feet moving gently around the water. Tobin is close to her, her folded right leg is against her thigh, her left knee behind her back, and she feels safe in the space around her.

She just wishes she’d somehow get even closer as she watches Tobin’s eyebrows do their cute but serious thinking dance. 

“No,” Tobin shakes her head confidently, and Christen wonders how similar their experiences with it all really was, because they may have been entirely different.

Before she can ask more about why, Tobin is already a step ahead of her, and _that’s_ unlike her.

“I thought I was being punished, when it first started happening..” Tobin starts with a sad smile when she meets Christen’s attentive eyes.

“I kind of liked the idea of it then, of feeling how angry everything was at me for what I did, it felt deserved.”

The idea of it makes her sad, but she lets her go on as she listens quietly.

“That was before I knew you were burning with me, and then every time it happened after that, I just got angry at how the world was hurting you for what I did, too.” Tobin ends with a sigh that could only be described as tiredly angry.

She feels just a little pang of guilt at the thought, because Christen used to secretly hope Tobin was feeling every bit of pain in the burn for what she did.

Granted, she didn’t quite understand everything at the time, but still, the thought of their differing hopes makes her feel uneasy. 

“I won’t miss it, I hated knowing you were hurting from _that_ on top of everything else.” Tobin whispers to her honestly, and Christen nods at the new information.

It makes sense.

“Will you?” Tobin asks her curiously, and Christen blows out a laugh at the question, because it is quite ridiculous to imagine, isn’t it.

She could lie, she could, but she doesn’t have to, and she doesn’t want to, so she doesn’t.

“I liked the reminder sometimes.”

Tobin blinks at her, not judgmental, just clearly trying to piece it all together, because their marks and their experiences are so different. While Christen had marked the place over her heart where she would see it every day of her life, Tobin hid it in a spot she’d never accidentally see it a single day of her own.

“I couldn’t have ever imagined back then that you’d ever want to see it,” Tobin’s laugh is self deprecating and small as she shakes her head, and Christen understands that now.

“I thought it was the best thing I ever did for you,” she whispers sadly and Christen doesn’t miss the frustrated tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

It’s in the past now, and Tobin has come so far from that person, but she can’t help but mourn for the girl that had been so far from the truth then. It’s like Christen was standing with her arms wide open under a spotlight but Tobin was blindfolded and it was no use. 

She finds that she’d still stand there waiting for all of eternity, anyway, but she doesn’t have to anymore.

She lets a small quiet moment pass, and she thinks they’re both probably doing the same thing, mourning the time lost between them.

She just doesn’t expect Tobin’s laugh to break them out of the silence as she blinks at her curiously. 

“What?” Christen breathes with a small smile at the sight.

“It’s..” Tobin starts before she looks up to the sky and brings her head back down into her hands before tiredly leaning against her propped up knee. “I made such a mess.”

She watches as the frustrated tears fall down her face, and her small smile immediately adjusts into a sympathetic one, realizing the laugh wasn’t genuine at all.

Tobin has said those exact words a couple times now, and she wonders what significance they have that they’re so fresh on her mind all the time. 

She’s about to console her, tell her it’s in the past, that she’s here now, but Tobin’s eyes are fierce on her own, and her body is as close as she can get it with both of her hands softly cradling her face.

A place Christen finds herself often these days, and she couldn’t hate it if she tried.

“I have to give you something,” Tobin says it like she almost forgot, and Christen doesn’t really feel like she has a choice, but if she did, she’d follow her anywhere, anyway.

“It’s your last gift,” she whispers, “can I show you?” Christen is already nodding, but before she can even get her shoes on, Tobin is pulling her towards the gate. 

“My shoes,” Christen laughs softly before she’s pulled back towards Tobin even stronger away from them when they get down the driveway.

“Too far,” Tobin huffs impatiently, “here.”

She doesn’t exactly understand at first what she wants when Tobin is pulling her arm around her neck for her, but when she bends down, she totally gets it.

She just doesn’t get how impatient one person could possibly be that she’d rather carry her blocks away on her back than just let her get her shoes.

She complies anyway, what else is she really to do when Tobin looks like she’s about to sonic run out of there with or without her.

She carries her easily as she jumps up and secures her arms around her neck, and she’s laughing in her ear at the whole idea, because really, she just had to let her get her shoes.

“Where are we going?” She feels Tobin’s hands grip her thighs just a little tighter at the question being breathed into her neck.

“My place,” Tobin breathes out a small laugh, and Christen would wonder if she’s already tired as they make their way halfway, but they’re moving at an even quicker pace now. 

“Nemo is still at-“

“I know, I have to bring you back, anyway,” Tobin whispers to her where she turns her head further into her own, and Christen just wants to know how her mood had switched so fast.

She also just really wants to know what the last gift is.

The walk feels quicker and longer than usual at the same time as she enjoys the ride on her favorite smelling bus she’s ever been on.

When they eventually make it to her front door and she’s being put down softly, Tobin doesn’t look like she is really spent at all. She just looks giddy about the whole thing, and it makes Christen even more excited for her gift if Tobin is _this_ excited about it.

“Close your eyes,” Tobin requests softly, and she’s skeptical, she always is when _that_ request is made, but she feels a little more comfortable knowing Tobin probably wouldn’t have done all of this just to scare her when she opens them.

She can tell she’s being led to her room carefully now by the layout of her house, and she’s guided slowly down to the end of her bed to sit.

“Keep them closed,” Tobin warns and Christen can hear the smile in her voice, and she knows if she did take a peek, Tobin wouldn’t really do anything about it anyway.

She hears a few noises including the door shutting, and honestly, if Tobin is going to go through all of this to scare her, maybe she’ll just let her have this one for free.

“Okay,” she hears her voice warm behind her ear, and she feels Tobin sit to the side of her but mostly behind her. She feels her hands on her wrists, and knows she can finally look as she slowly moves them down with her own, and when she opens them, she has no idea where she is.

It’s meant to be Tobin’s room, it’s just, it looks like she’s somehow traveled to space.

And it’s not hard to figure out what it is from there.

It’s one of the best star projectors she’s ever seen, she didn’t even know they had ones this good as she looks around the room with big eyes. 

Falling asleep to this would be entirely magical, she wouldn’t even want to leave.

And when Tobin changes the colors with a small remote to pink and red galaxies, her jaw almost hurts with how wide it is as she looks around.

“So you can take the stars wherever you go,” Tobin whispers to her soft and sweet, and it’s not said with one ounce of sadness, and the knowledge that Tobin just wants her to have stars wherever she ends up going sits heavy in her chest. 

“And if you’re far away..” Tobin trails off as she uses the remote again and changes the star projection to slow moving blue waves on the ceiling, just like they do at home. 

She can’t imagine a better gift in her life than something that holds the stars, the ocean and Tobin all in one thing.

It’s like she’s giving her the gift of home wherever she goes. 

She leans back against her, feeling as heavy as the weight of the world, but Tobin holds her up easily where she’s sitting behind her, and she feels her lips against the warm imprint of a finger behind her ear. 

And _that_ feeling.

 _That_ feeling is new.

There’s a half packed duffle bag in the corner of Christen’s room, and she doesn’t think about it much, because maybe there was never really anything to think about anyway.

But if there was something to think about, the feeling of Tobin’s lips resting softly against the spot behind her ear would have told her everything she needed to know this time. 

Tobin’s as proud of the mark now as Christen has always been of her own, and it’s in the way she’s stroked it with the soft pad of her thumb every time she gets the chance.

It’s in the way her lips rest against it now, like she’d do anything to be able to take any of the pain away from the mark with her soft kisses. 

She knows she can’t, but she thinks she would do it for a thousand years straight if it meant she could take even an ounce of pain back that Christen felt.

She knows that now, and there’s not much to really think about past _that_ as she closes her eyes at the feeling of it all.

“Chris,” Tobin whispers painfully by her ear, and Christen is immediately turning her forehead into her own behind her to reassure her. 

“You don’t have to but-“ she falters in tears against her, and Christen is shaking her head, ready to tell her it’s okay, whatever she wants is okay. 

“Can you stay here one more night?” Tobin asks in tears, her nose already red and stuffy, and Christen doesn’t know where she holds all of this in. 

“I don’t have any of our nights here,” she whispers past a small whimper as Christen tries to let her finish without interrupting with her fingers working through the baby hairs at the back of her neck. 

“My stars haven’t seen anything,” she shakes her head before looking above them to show her, and it might all sound a little crazy, but Christen understands _exactly_ what she’s saying.

She thinks if Christen is leaving, that she just wants one more memory under her stars to keep with her when she looks up when she’s gone.

Christen understands it better than she thinks.

_She just doesn’t know if she means just to be wrapped up in each other to sleep, or-_

“Can I show you?” Tobin asks in a soft plea against her forehead. “Can I show you how much I love you one more time?”

Or _that_.

“Just in case.” Tobin breathes.

_Just in case Christen wakes up tomorrow and feels different._

Christen lets out a shaky exhale against her lips at hearing the three words she hasn’t heard since her eighteenth birthday, and her mind is rid of everything else as she feels how close their lips are.

The prospect of being able to kiss them again has her heart falling into her stomach as she nods softly against her head, but Tobin doesn’t close the distance.

She waits for her.

And Christen is glad to be waited for so patiently.

And it’s exactly what needed to happen to complete the way they’ve done everything right this time now.

And when she closes the distance between them and brings her lips home for the first time in four years, she becomes useless to anything else for as long as Tobin wants her like this.

It’s a little wet and the taste of salt is faint, but it’s there, just like their first kiss, and it all just makes sense this way, it had to happen like this.

Tobin is moving her into her lap with ease, and Christen doesn’t even have the mind to realize it with the way she’s kissing her, but she feels her warm hands under the back of her shirt against the skin of her hot back, and it has her shivering like she could let go just from this.

There’s a taste to Tobin that she could never be able to describe.

She hasn’t kissed a single soul since she left, Tobin is quite literally her first and last everything, but she knows there’s nothing like this taste out there.

Nobody else could taste this good, it’s just not a thing that the world would allow.

“Chris,” Tobin breathes between a small break against her forehead, and she has no idea what she’s asking for because she can’t think of anything besides trying to fill her lungs back up. 

Thankfully, she clarifies by lifting her shirt up, just a little, and Christen is quick to nod against her before Tobin is right back where she belongs after the shirt is thrown off.

When Tobin turns her onto her back, her hot skin gently meets the cold sheets. She immediately moves to get more body heat from Tobin, and she’s so glad for it, because when Tobin’s shirt is off and her skin is on her own, she couldn’t be warmer than she is right now.

Their chests move deeply together, trying to catch their breath at the same desperate pace, but Tobin won’t disconnect from her, and she doesn’t want her to. 

_She just has to,_ if they both want to survive this.

The feeling of the hot skin of her belly against her own has her feeling like she’s not even going to last before she’s touched, but she doesn’t care. 

She just wants to show her she loves her, too.

“You’re so warm,” Tobin breathes into her neck as she breathes cool breaths above them into her lungs from the ceiling. 

She wonders if she feels as warm to her as Tobin does to her. 

She feels soft kisses being pressed into her throat, and she feels warm hands spreading her thighs wider so she can move her body deeper into her own, and _this_ is going to be humiliating.

They fully have their pants on, but she’s just one move away from letting go to the feeling of her weight being pressed into her.

Thankfully, for now, Tobin’s moving with slow kisses down her chest and Christen can see the question in her eyes before she even asks it, so she nods like she’s malfunctioning as her bra is thrown somewhere. 

Tobin grants her the same privilege before their naked chests are meeting for the first time in years as she connects their lips again, and it takes all the breath back out of her lungs she worked so hard to get. 

Crying at the feeling of skin to skin contact isn’t her proudest moment, but it’s also not her worst moment, so she doesn’t hide it, and Tobin is right here with her as she swipes at them with her thumb.

“I love you,” Tobin breathes in tears, her wet eyes desperate and pleading for her to really understand just how much, and Christen blinks one slow time to communicate she just needs a minute to speak.

Tobin nods against her before she gives her a chaste kiss and continues with her trail of kisses down her chest. She works hard around her stomach and her chest, kissing absolutely every inch of skin she has to offer. 

Her shoulders and arms are thoroughly kissed by soft lips as she basks in the feeling of it with her eyes on the soft blue waves above them. All the way down to each pad of her finger and each knuckle, and when she makes her way back for her lips, Christen is saying thank you in the form of the deepest and messiest kiss they’ve probably ever had. 

When Tobin is making her way back down to her belly button, she’s moving right up into it before she feels her fingers at the sides of her pants.

“Chris,” she breathes into her waistband, and she breathes a hopeful breath that she can make it through this before she even fully touches her as she nods for her. 

She kisses her way down every bit of fresh skin her pants have to offer as they slowly fall with her gentle movements, and Christen feels a wave of vulnerability wash over her as she tries to calm herself down.

Tobin loves her.

She wants to show her how much she loves her.

_Tobin has her this time._

The feeling of soft wet lips against her inner thighs have her feeling like she’s never experienced something this intimate in her life, but she has, from this same human doing it right now.

She can’t believe she’s ever forgotten how good it feels to be under her like this.

She doesn’t last long enough.

She knows that because it takes one feeling of Tobin’s warm breath to make her feel close and only two movements for her to be gone.

But she really knows this because Tobin has no interest in coming up for a long while as she takes her time around what she can handle. 

She’d be embarrassed about it if she could remember that was even a feeling she could feel. 

She’ll have to reboot later.

When Tobin finally makes her way back up to her, Christen is breathing embarrassingly deep breaths into her lips, and Tobin waits patiently against her forehead as she burrows deep into her body. 

They’re both fully tangled together now, Christen’s legs around hers, their centers close but not moving, and when Tobin gives her deep and slow languid kisses, her tears come right back home. 

But Tobin does her one better as her own tears fall onto her cheeks instead on accident before she burrows her face into her neck. 

“I missed you,” Tobin breathes into her, hot and sad into her throat.

And Christen gets it. 

She gets it more than anybody else, so she holds her right into the space, and she whispers the words she needs her to know before she starts to move against her again to bring them both to slow release.

“I love you.”


	16. Steadfast.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where we just want them to stop crying already

Her body is entirely useless by the time the soft mewl leaves her lips at being laid back down onto the sheets.

And she hates it.

She can barely find enough energy to turn her cheek into the pillow, let alone move her hands to touch the hot skin she misses so desperately already. 

She isn’t even truly sure where her hands actually are at the moment, let alone if her arms are still attached to them. 

At least, she wasn’t sure. 

Until, to her absolute dearest pleasure, she’s shown exactly where her right hand is when Tobin’s own finds it under the pillow below her head. 

She knows she has some knowledge of the world outside of this bed, but she can’t remember a single part of any of it right now.

She knows of the strong left arm that’s laid across her naked chest where her heart beats against it.

She knows of the right arm under her pillow that’s got warm fingers dancing with her own. 

She knows of the sweaty, smooth legs that are tangled with hers under a light comforter. 

She knows of the body that is entirely turned into her own where she’s laid limp on her back.

She knows she feels safe under the soft honey gaze of her attentive eyes as she watches her fall in and out of consciousness.

The feeling of warm fingers against her forehead where they work to get the sweaty hairs off her face remind her that she’s still awake.

She’s exhausted in a way she’s never been before, she doesn’t feel like she wants to sleep, but she can’t keep her eyelids fully open on her own anymore. 

But each time they open to find wide awake ones full of longing, she’s motivated to keep them open for as long as she can. 

She just wishes it was longer. 

She has no sense of time in this moment, but she knows the light of the window above them is starting to match the color of the slow moving blue waves on the ceiling.

She would guess it’s close to five in the morning, if she had to. 

And she hates it.

She hates that the night has to end at all, not because she’s scared of what the new day will bring, but because she wishes she could live in this moment forever.

She had prayed that her eternal moment would have been the first night they had ever made love. But this time, the first time she had made love all around soft and warm skin after being away from her for so long, _this_ has to be her eternal moment. 

The moment she will live through over and over on repeat when her life here is done.

Or maybe this one right now, where she feels her everywhere around her, around her fingers, on her forehead, tangled tightly around her body.

 _This_ entire moment.

She would choose to live in this one above any other, because she’s never felt so loved a single moment in her life.

When the words _show you I love you_ came out of her favorite lips, she adored them through every syllable, but she hadn’t fully believed it was exactly possible.

She was proved wrong in every way.

They’ve exchanged more words in their lifetimes under blankets and in swimming pools than any other two humans probably ever have by this age. 

But Tobin had said more to her through her touch than she thinks either of them ever could through any language they could have known.

And Christen’s body had responded to it in a way only a person who could fully comprehend her love could.

Above everything else, as her eyelids continue to flutter with the feeling of a thumb moving across her bottom lip, she’s learned the most important thing of her life tonight.

_Tobin is helpless to hide a single thing through her touch._

She hadn’t paid attention enough to it the first time they had ever made love, but she can feel the difference in it all now. 

She just hadn’t known, she was so overwhelmed by all of her own emotions that night she hadn’t felt it, but she gets it now. 

Tobin had made love to her, and she had felt every ounce of it, but had she known to look for it, she would have felt the fear of it all through her body, too.

She gets it now.

She had already been sure, but if she wasn’t, it would be undeniable now.

_Tobin gets it now._

_She’s got it this time._

_She’s got her this time._

The feeling of soft pillowy lips just barely touching her own brings her back to the land of the living, just in time to respond to her, slow and languid.

She barely pulls away after, their noses still pressed together, their lips a mere movement away from touching.

The knowledge that Tobin is staying put has her heart beating strong and proud in her chest where she feels her hand against it.

She would wonder if Tobin knows it’s all for her, but she doesn’t have to wonder, because she feels a slow chaste kiss being pressed against her lips. 

Christen can only think of two words now with the action and her newfound discovery.

_Message received._

She continues in and out of sleep, Tobin’s hand under the pillow tangled with her own, Tobin’s other hand making gentle patterns across her chest, and her warm breath on her lips.

Every time her tired eyes allow her to get a peek, she wonders how Tobin could still be so awake as she watches her.

She would tell her to get some rest if she could speak properly, but she can’t.

So she licks her lips tiredly with a small question before she allows herself to fall into what her body is begging for.

And like she knew she would, Tobin answers her quickly as she kisses her a soft goodnight in the form of three chaste kisses.

Christen falls asleep with the message from her lips, hearing the unsaid words loud and clear, and hopes Tobin can hear the same words echoed back before she finally drifts off. 

∞

She awakens gently and fully aware of where she is, and she thinks there would be no better way to wake up to this moment. 

She can’t see her, but she can feel her.

She knows she’s here this time.

Then again, she wasn’t worried she wouldn’t be.

She can feel the gentle warm breaths against her neck, and she can feel her chest moving rhythmically against her back.

She can feel both of their hands tangled together, their right ones under the pillow, their left ones across her stomach. 

She feels everything. 

She doesn’t remember turning around in her sleep, but she’s thankful for it, she’s thankful Tobin pulled her as close as she could get her, and she’s thankful her fingers held on to her own through her sleep.

She’s thankful she can feel Tobin’s easy heartbeat against her back, almost as if her body is letting Christen’s body know that she’s finally resting peacefully. 

It’s all she wants for her after how hard she had worked the night before, letting her know just how much she loves her.

She turns as carefully as she can in her arms, turning her face as close as she can to her own without touching it, desperate to keep her asleep as she takes her in.

She knows it’s almost outrageous, how many times she’s counted her eyelashes in her life or how long she’s watched how softly her nose will move as she exhales in her sleep.

But like always, she’s only human, and there’s never any getting used to how dazed she could be by a mere glimpse of the human beside her.

Maybe one day she’ll feel like she’s memorized her enough.

_She thinks, probably not._

There’s a fear that overcomes her when she watches her like this, a fear of losing her, however it may be. 

She remembers all the nights she had begged and pleaded the universe to never take Tobin away from her, even when she was small and just wanted her to stay for dinner.

But then it did. 

She had spent years without her, without even a glimpse of her, with barely any information at all of what she was doing or how she was.

 _Years_.

Four.

Four long, excruciating, endlessly painful years.

She thinks about her dad, and how his yearly countdown never ends, and she blows out a painful breath.

She can’t do that.

She can’t wake up expecting to see her there one morning and feel nothing but cold sheets. 

She can’t even do the four years again, and yeah, Tobin has her this time, but Tobin was supposed to have her the first time, and anything can happen.

_Anything can happen._

She just needs- 

She’s moving out of her arms gently as she brings her feet off over the bed. Her body feels like a thousand pounds of jelly as she slowly gets up to throw Tobin’s joggers on from yesterday. 

She throws on the nearest hoodie, and the smell of her is comforting as it passes her nose, and it reminds her she has to make sure she knows she just needs a second.

That she’ll come back. 

_She just needs a second._

She kneels at the side of the bed, and slowly coaxes her out of her sleep as she runs her fingers down her arm.

When she sees an eye flutter open, her other one too squished into the pillow to be seen, she runs her thumb across her cheek to let her know it’s okay.

“Hey,” Christen whispers, “I’ll be back, okay?” She continues her soothing patterns with her thumb against her cheek until she gets a small nod, making sure she heard her. 

She just needs her to know she isn’t leaving. 

She just wishes she didn’t look so sad even after she told her she’d be back.

_She just needs a minute._

She leaves her with a kiss to the inside of her wrist, and hopes it’s enough to express how fast she’s going to try to be so she can come back to bed with her. 

She hopes so much. 

When she makes it to the door, she kicks on a pair of her slides, and she gently closes the door behind her before she makes her way down the street, and the tears finally come.

The air proves to be exactly what she needed as she breathes steady breaths through her nose. 

It makes sense that she’d be overcome with emotion this morning, a little bit of fear mixed with a lot of emotion and even more love. 

She makes her way slowly down the street, her hands comfortable and warm in the pockets of Tobin’s pants, with the knowledge that her own hands would be doing this, too.

Every step she takes that brings her further from her feels like they’re begging her to go back, but she will, they don’t understand, she just needs a second.

Her first step into the cold morning sand feels like exactly what she needed as she picks up the slides and makes her way to the spot she needs to be in.

She had come here before she left for college.

Angry tears rolling down her face as she gave her mom permission to continue to watch over Tobin, even after she had left her.

She had known it was no use to ask otherwise, her mom would watch over Tobin no matter what she had done.

She just wanted her to know she wanted her to do it, anyway.

She had sat in this very spot in the sand, knowing she had a heavily packed duffle bag at home ready to be lugged into her trunk and driven hours away.

She was angry then, full of devastation and excruciating amounts of pain. 

She had left that day anyway, her arms almost giving out when she brought the bag into her trunk, refusing the help from anybody.

She had shut her car door and forced herself to leave it all behind the best she could, to find the closest thing to living she could find elsewhere.

She had figured, as long as she was away from here, away from the memories of everything that was painful, that she’d be better off.

But now she sits here, in this very spot, and she feels immense amounts of forgiveness and understanding.

_Of love._

She just wishes the fear wasn’t there, is all.

“Okay, mom,” she whispers into her hands before she brings them to rub the sleep out of her eyes. “I’ve got this.”

“I’ve got this,” she repeats slowly as she pushes the slow tear away, “don’t I?”

The waves are slow to roll up onto the shore this morning, and Christen takes it as a sign that she’s here with how gentle and beautiful they are.

Even in the mornings, they’re typically loud and crashing, but not today, today they’re calm and quiet, lapping over each other like morning cuddles before breakfast.

_She can’t lose Tobin like this._

She can’t speak to oceans and sharks, pleading for them to be _her_ and praying that she’ll hear.

She can’t be away from her, not like this, and not like she was once before.

There’s no other option than to risk it, she knows it, but God, does she just wish it didn’t have to be like this.

She wipes the remaining tears with the sleeve of Tobin’s hoodie, and the tide washes as high as it has all morning when she lets out her last deep breath.

_She’ll be okay._

_Tobin’s got her._

She pulls up the bottoms of her pants anyway, and makes her way down to the water, and she hopes it will wash her fears away.

She had woken up next to her, she was there.

She _is_ there.

She can go home to her now. 

“I know you’ll keep doing it, anyway,” she whispers to her, “but I can do it again now, I can watch her and keep her safe.. and she’ll do the same for me.”

“She does,” she breathes, hoping she hears it no matter how soft it is. “She keeps me safe.”

She thinks of all the times she had cried to her about the loss of the warmest human being she had ever known, and she leaves her with one last whisper into the water.

“She came home, mom.”

 _Just like you said she would_ remains silent between them, because she had doubted it every single day when she had thought she heard the words, but she knows it now.

She stays a few moments there in the wet sand, the waves washing past her and slightly pulling at her feet to bring her closer. 

But it doesn’t pull her in with it’s strength. 

It just lets her be.

The walk back through the sand has her feeling light, realizing she can get Nemo from her house now before she brings them both back to Tobin.

She can be back in the warm bed with her in as long as it takes to simply _walk_ there.

The thought has her feeling a sleepy happiness through her bones. 

She had rested enough to be up, but God, did Tobin tire her body out, she could use more sleep if her legs have anything to say about it.

She doesn’t even know how she’s walked this far without them giving out, but she figures her body just knows how important this all was for her.

She also kinda has to let her family know she’s okay.

Especially the four legged boy who is probably worried sick. 

When she makes it to her front door, she uses the hose to get the sand off her legs and feet, and she can already hear his paws at the bottom of the door.

He’s going to have _so much_ to say about the way they left him, she just knows it.

Hopefully he’ll understand when he gets home and sees that she’s staying with him. 

When she opens the door with the extra key dug under her dads favorite garden gnome, Nemo is quick to let her know that she should never do that to him again as he jumps as high as he can into her.

He looks like she just returned from war, and she can’t even imagine what he’ll look like when he sees Tobin.

In her defense, _she’s_ the one who mentioned him before they had left.

“ _My baby_ ,” she coos into his fur when she kneels down for him, “I’m so sorry.” 

When Nemo is finally done being just a tad dramatic, she makes sure to write a note for her dad to put on the fridge before she goes back.

But since she’s here, she might as well bring some clothes so she can let Tobin do her laundry properly without her going through it all.

It’s the least she could do, she guesses.

She just forgets she had already packed some clothes for an entirely different reason when she opens her door.

The half packed bag in the corner of her room has her breathing out a sigh of relief that she doesn’t have to use it for the wrong reason anymore.

But it hurts to think about how this very bag has been packed more than once to drive herself away from the person she can’t bear to live without. 

The thought that she can pack some softer things in it to bring her to Tobin now has her biting her tears back as she grabs some sweatpants and tee shirts.

She just hopes she’ll forgive her for taking away her own warmth from her this morning for a moment.

_She thinks about promising to never do it again as long as she can help it._

She makes her way downstairs with the strap of her bag around her shoulder, and a happily panting dog by her side, and she makes sure to let him know where they’re going as she scratches behind his ear.

“Lets go home, baby,” she whispers to him sweetly as he follows her to the door.

She just wants to crawl back into bed with her as her exhaustion finally lets itself be felt in her bones.

They make their way down the steps after she locks the door, and she’s yawning happily into her sleeve when Nemo finds her. 

She has to blink away the tiredness she feels from the morning to confirm it’s her, but the way Nemo is jumping could probably confirm it on its own.

She feels a pang of sympathy for waking her up earlier as she takes her in, but she can’t pretend she isn’t happy to see her, not having to walk so many steps to finally have her eyes on her.

“Hey,” she softly calls out as she makes her way sleepily to her at the end of her driveway, more than ready to fall into her. “You didn’t have to-“

“I want to come with you,” Tobin stands tall as she says it, and the entire thing has Christen confused, but definitely more awake as she takes her in fully, pausing her steps. 

Her nose and cheeks are red with fresh tears, and there’s a duffle bag that looks almost identical to hers around her shoulder, and Christen doesn’t understand exactly- 

“If you just..” Tobin stops to let a breath go as Christen watches her pull at the strap around her shoulder tightly, “if you need to just get away from here, the bad memories and stuff.. I want to go, I want to follow you and-“

 _Oh_. 

_She thinks she’s leaving._

The realization that she should have been even clearer this morning feels like a punch to the gut.

“Shit..” Christen breathes sadly with her hand rubbing at her temples at what she caused on accident, “No, Tobs. I-“

“But _I can do this_ ,” Tobin pleads with her hands tightening even further around the strap of her bag, “I know I made a mess, Chris, but I can clean it all up on my own, I can do this-“

“Tobin-“

“I can sell my house.” Tobin says it like it’s nothing as Christen blinks, not knowing how to get her to stop.

“I don’t care about it, I’ll sell it, and I’ll go wherever you want me to, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, I don’t care.” Tobin lets it all out so fast she has to take a breath before she continues.

“Where do you want to go, Chris? Huh?” Tobin asks desperately.

“I’ll go, you want to go to Iceland? _I’ll go_.” She says it as she puffs out her chest, like she’ll buy the ticket right now.

It’s not the time to correct Tobin on the lack of ice in Iceland, but she gets the premise, Tobin doesn’t like the cold, and she’d follow her through it.

The entire situation has her huffing out a sad breath to the sky as she tries to fix this, but before she can say a single thing, Tobin is already going again.

“Or if you want me to stay, if you need space- I’ll stay, I’ll stay right here and wait for as long as you need, okay, please just- just,” Tobin breathes out a frustrated breath at trying to speak and before Christen can finish saying her name again, she’s off again.

“Chris, please,” she pleads with tears finally falling, “I’ll do whatever you want, but you- I know you feel this, too. Like there’s no other person in this world that can get you right like this, I know it because I feel it, Chris. I get it now, I get that it goes both ways now, that I’m not a burden to you, that the love I have can be enough as long as I show you, I just have to _show you_.” 

“I saw it last night,” Tobin whispers painfully, “I can do it now.”

Christen can’t bear another second of her not understanding that she’s not going anywhere, so as Tobin opens her mouth again, she closes the distance as she drops her bag by her feet and falls into her. 

“I’m not leaving,” Christen whispers wetly into her hair as she holds onto her tightly, and she feels the relief fall through Tobin’s chest against her own immediately as she pushes her further into her. 

They really have to work a little harder on this communication thing, she thinks.

_She’ll take the fault for this one, though._

She’d tell her as much if Tobin wasn’t pulling back and bringing her into a deep wet kiss that takes all the breath and thoughts out of her body.

Tobin’s hands are strong and steady where they hold her face, and her lips are as determined as they are gentle as they undo her from within. 

And she gives it right back to her.

Because she gets it, too.

When she has to pull back before Tobin accidentally kills them both, she rests her forehead against her own as she catches her breath with a nervous smile.

“I wasn’t..” she starts, trying to figure out how to explain this one. “I was only coming back to you.” Tobin stays put against her as she hums.

“Just now?” She questions in a whisper, and Christen can feel how desperate she is to keep her close. 

“Yeah,” Christen breathes, “I wasn’t leaving,” she shakes her head against hers. “I was never leaving.”

Tobin hums against her in thought, and Christen wonders if she’s just a little mad about it by now.

She had really fucked up the wording this morning, leaving it far too vague. Definitely a learning experience.

“Chris,” Tobin whispers to her as she takes the smallest bit of distance from her to find her eyes seriously. “Why did you let me embarrass myself for twenty minutes like that if you were just coming back?” Christen’s laugh is wet as she falls back against her forehead quietly.

“You could have stopped me mid speech,” Tobin adds in a mock serious tone, and Christen blows out another laugh against her lips before she kisses her, soft and chaste.

_Because she can._

She would tell her she tried about a million times to stop her, but she decides to say something far more important than that. 

“It was a good speech,” she shrugs pressing one more kiss into her soft lips before hearing Nemo’s small whine at their feet.

He’s waiting like a good boy as he sits patiently, but she knows Tobin hasn’t given him nearly enough attention since they’ve reunited. 

She feels for him, she does.

Apparently, Tobin does, too, as she crouches down for him gently to let him slip into her hold as they trade kisses in their own ways.

Christen picks her bag up while they’re busy, definitely ready to finally get back into her warm bed with her after this.

Mostly, maybe a little excited to kiss apologies into the space below her belly button, knowing now that it’s her most sensitive spot. 

“Christen.”

Christen hums happily for her as she situates the strap back onto her shoulder and makes sure she has everything she needs.

She just doesn’t expect for Tobin to be pointing behind them towards one of the windows that has shaking blinds in it as if someone just scrabbled away.

Her instant reaction is to scoff, she wouldn’t be surprised if both her sisters _and_ her dad made this a family event somehow, but she imagines they’ve been waiting just as long as she has.

With maybe even a little more frustration than they had themselves, watching them fumble their way here like a toy with low batteries.

She figures, at least she won’t have to tell them with words later. 

She just wants to get Tobin back to bed now. 

“Ready?” Christen smiles sleepily as she adjusts the strap of her bag one last time, and Tobin is giving her a happy nod before moving to pull the strap off her entirely.

“I’ve got this,” Tobin lets her know softly as she moves to lift the bag off her own shoulder, but Christen keeps one hand firmly on it.

She doesn’t know why she always insists on carrying these things by herself, but this one is far lighter than any bag she’s ever packed, and she just feels like she can do it.

She could do this one.

_  
She lifts,_

_She burns_

_She’s burning-  
  
_

It’s different now, she’s not burning, she’s not leaving, she’s not alone. Her body won’t shake and go weak this time, Tobin will help her. 

Tobin’s eyes are soft where they blink curiously at her, lost in her own mind as she waits patiently for her, and there’s nothing more she could have asked for.

She doesn’t know why this feels like such a big deal, it’s just a bag.

It’s just a stupid bag that she’s packed a million times before.

Maybe she had to pack it twice to drive herself away from Tobin before, but she unpacked it this time. 

She unpacked it and threw much softer clothes in there to bring herself _to her_ this time.

It’s just a bag.

Tobin keeps her fingers around it loosely as she waits quietly, and Christen doesn’t know why this feels so big to her.

She just knows she doesn’t have to carry it alone or away this time.

_So she does it._

She lets it slide off her shoulder gently, and Tobin, just like she said she would, has it. 

She lets out a deep quiet exhale as she watches Tobin throw it around her other shoulder easily, carrying both of their bags now with a satisfied smile before she offers her hand.

Christen accepts it without hesitation as soft understanding eyes bore into her own, and she’s always in awe of how well Tobin can read her, but the way she’s waiting for her now with patient and soft eyes..

It’s like she understands more than even Christen does.

They walk slowly together, Nemo happily guiding the way, and Tobin’s warm palm in her own has her chanting the same word over and over as she thinks of their destination.

Home.

∞

Christen hums hungrily into the kiss where she sits on the counter with a shared toaster strudel in her hand.

It’s proved to be no fight at all against the human standing between her legs feeding her kisses instead.

She doesn’t blame it.

She wouldn’t even try either.

“These are my favorite so far,” Tobin whispers when they part, lifting Christen’s wrist gently to take another bite as she watches, dazed.

“The strawberry ones?” Christen wonders softly, she doesn’t know much about the toaster pastries, not nearly as much as _her_ , but she knows Tobin really likes the chocolate ones.

She thought she did anyway, but Tobin is shaking her head as she chews, and maybe strawberry really is her favorite now.

“The kisses,” Tobin corrects her, and Christen moves her eyebrows funnily together as she figures it out.

When the soft realization comes, her smiling eyes are so fond, she thinks they might be melting.

Toaster strudel kisses are Tobin’s favorite kisses so far.

Almost as if she’s collecting them in a three ring binder, and Christen sort of hates to say it, but she might have to agree.

In fact, with the mix of sweet frosting and Tobin on her lips, these kisses will probably hold the top spot for quite some time.

“But,” Tobin starts with a serious look as she takes another bite to mumble around. “If we’re talking strictly strudel, the chocolate ones are way better.”

Christen hums at that with a nod, because she already figured as much, and Tobin is bringing her right back into her lips as she’s smiling with how giddy she feels with it all.

She didn’t exactly know where she’d be today.

She wasn’t sure if she would be boarding a plane or pleading at the beach, she didn’t know. 

But in her wildest dreams, she definitely didn’t think she’d be sitting in Tobin’s little kitchen sharing bites and kisses. Especially with Tobin’s groans of displeasure at the loss of contact as she laughs sleepily at her trying to chase her lips. 

“We’re never going to finish eating,” Christen whispers into her lips.

“Before yesterday, I hadn’t kissed you since I was eighteen and had no idea what I was doing,” Tobin tries softly, “so, unless someone is dying-“

“What’s changed?” Christen smiles as she pulls away from dazed cinnamon sugar eyes, “did you get a lot of practice since?”

“Funny,” Tobin’s scowl is light and sarcastic, and Christen rests her head against the cabinet as she smiles and watches her small tease work perfectly. 

She knows she’s Tobin’s first and last, but most of all, she knows she’s Tobin’s only, just like Tobin is for her.

It’s one of the most gentle things unsaid between them.

But she knows.

They know.

They finish eating eventually, very slowly, but they finish, and there’s small kisses being pressed into the space behind her ear the whole way back to bed, and she’s waited for _this_ all morning.

Since the very moment she slipped out of Tobin’s arms, her body has been pleading with her to somehow make its way back.

And she’s happy to finally deliver.

A small whimper leaves her lips at the feeling of finally being back in the soft sheets, and a sigh follows as she turns into a pillow that smells like _them_.

She doesn’t know what the rest of the day will bring, but she knows she isn’t leaving this bed.

Not today.

Maybe tomorrow. 

When she feels Tobin’s body move above her own, bracketing her into her spot, she decides, well.. maybe not tomorrow, either.

“Move over,” Tobin whispers into her ear, leaving small kisses around the shell of it, and she definitely wishes it didn’t, but it tickles and she’s defenseless, allowing Tobin to move her without much effort at all. 

When Tobin is finally happy with her spot as she lays on her back, Christen is quick to turn onto her side to watch her until she falls asleep.

It’s not that she’s clingy, it’s just, she doesn’t know how to stop feeling like everything has just been a dream, so the sight of her when her eyes open will remind her it’s real.

And maybe she’s a little clingy.

But she knows Tobin doesn’t mind.

In fact, Tobin may be more clingy than three of Christen’s combined with the speech she had prepared this morning at the break of dawn.

The sound of Nemo’s small whimper has them both moving to see the space at the side of the bed where he’s patiently waiting, and she pouts _for_ him. 

He’s had quite the last twenty four hours.

By the time Tobin gives him permission, Christen’s arms are out for him as he makes his way messily to her, and she thinks Tobin may have a bruised rib or two, but what was the other option.

He finds the tight space between them, and Christen moves her eyebrows around trying to figure out how he’s even made that work.

She moves on quickly, anyway, as she gives him his belly rubs while Tobin does the same.

She meets sleepy eyes where Tobin’s head is turned towards her on the pillow, and she knows she’s going to fall into a helpless sleep soon with how comforting the sight is. 

“I’m sorry for leaving you this morning,” she whispers to her, not wanting to forget about it.

Tobin nods softly in her spot against the pillow, never letting her eyes leave her own, and there’s not an ounce of annoyance in it. 

“Where did you go?” Tobin asks with gentle curiosity.

She doesn’t know how deep she wants to really go with her answer, because it’s quite a lot, and they’ve already had such an emotional twenty four hours. 

She’s not scared, she’s just tired.

But then she remembers how little she has to say with Tobin for her to understand, and the thought brings a wave of comfort as it pushes the words out of her. 

“I went to see my mom,” she whispers to her, eyes unwavering as she watches full realization spread through understanding pretty eyes.

She swallows before she works on the next part, because it is something they’ll probably have to work on, and the reminder that they’re not perfect sets in.

“I woke up.. and you were here this time, I know you were, but..” She swallows sadly, trying to get the courage to explain it without using words that will make her feel guilty for their past. 

“I just thought about.. if one day you weren’t.”

“You’re scared,” Tobin turns her body to her in order to get closer, and her fingers are quick to trace her jaw as she waits for Christen to confirm it with a nod.

“Not just.. I mean it’s _that_ , too, a little but.. mostly it was just.. in general.” Tobin hums after she gets it out, and Christen isn’t doing the best at explaining, but she knows she’ll understand.

She gets it.

She always gets her.

But just in case, she lets the scariest words slip out of her mouth as she closes her eyes in pain.

“Forever is a long time to live without someone, isn’t it?” 

The thought of one of them being away from the other forever has her feeling like there’s almost just no point to anything, and the tears gather at the corner of her eyes.

It’s a heavy subject, loss mixed with death, it’s complex and terrifying, and probably not good pillow talk, but what can she do.

She hears Tobin hum softly as she brushes the tears out of the corner of her eyes with her thumb, and she’s as thankful as she is sad that they even have to talk about this.

“Can I tell you something?” Tobin asks when she finally opens her eyes, she had waited for her patiently, and it warms her entirely as she nods. 

“Your dad stopped making breakfast,” Tobin swallows.

And Christen knows exactly what she’s talking about, after her mom, he had stopped getting up early and making breakfast for a bit.

Tobin had been there through it all, toasting bagels for them to eat in her bed instead.

“He stopped singing, and sometimes.. talking,” Tobin bites her lip, “and I get it, I get why you’re scared of it.” She whispers as her thumb works across her eyebrow.

“It became the biggest fear of my life after that..” Tobin breathes. “I had already been scared of everything else, but I hadn’t even really begun to think about losing you like.. _that_.” 

Christen’s heart hurts at the extra weight added to Tobin’s shoulders then, already having felt the weight of everything else she’s learned with her.

“So, I get it,” Tobin blinks away the tears bravely, getting through it for her, as usual, now. “It almost feels like there’s no point then, doesn’t it?”

Christen nods painfully. 

“That’s how I felt at first when I was living without you,” Tobin admits softly between them, her thumb carefully at Christen’s bottom lip. 

“But _this_ ,” she brings Christen’s hand to lay on her fast beating heart before she kisses her palm, “this is worth it, wherever it goes.” 

Christen closes her eyes at the rhythm of her favorite heartbeat under her favorite chest, and she nods again to let her know she understands what she’s saying, too.

“I won’t tell you what to believe.. but your dad doesn’t have a single doubt about his forever with her after this, and I won’t pretend I don’t feel the same.” Tobin says with a soft smile when she opens her eyes again. 

And maybe she doesn’t do it on purpose, but Christen can feel the gold cross where it hangs by her heart under her shirt, and maybe it feels like she believes it, too.

She falls into a deep sleep with her fingers against the warm skin of Tobin’s chest where Tobin’s strong hands keep them steady.   
  


_They’ve got it this time._   
  



	17. Harbor.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a place on the coast where vessels may find shelter

Stubborn.

It’s not a foreign word to her, not in the slightest. 

Her parents never let her forget the word, that’s for sure.

Her dad had always said she had practically cried if the sky wasn’t the right color she wanted as a baby, and she gets it.

She still feels that way sometimes.

Her mom would wait for what felt like hours outside of her blanket as she cried about whatever she was frustrated about, refusing to let her in until she was ready.

So she gets it, she knows she’s stubborn.

It’s just, she doesn’t know what’s happened to all of that stubbornness now when she needs it most. 

The sound of Tobin groaning sadly against the other side of the bathroom door has her doubting her entire defense so far, and she hates it, she totally hates it.

“Chris,” Tobin squeaks sadly into the door, “I said I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t answer her as she lets the water run lightly for just another couple seconds, feeling the desperation in Tobin’s voice get even stronger when she opens the shower door. 

_That is sort of why she opened it so loudly, isn’t it?_

“I’ve learned my lesson, please.” Tobin squeaks out in one last attempt, and Christen already knows that, but it does feel _awfully_ nice to hear.

She shuts the water off as she makes her way to the door with a fond huff, the feeling of wet sand chafing against her uncomfortably.

They had a good morning, a really good morning, one of Christen’s absolute most favorite mornings. Besides yesterday morning of course, waking up to soft lips trailing wet kisses down her naked back. 

But today was good, too. 

They had played with Nemo for what felt like hours under the morning sun, something Tobin does almost religiously as her morning workout as they fight for the football she throws. 

She just didn’t realize that after winning two rounds, _totally not by cheating,_ she’d end up being carried to the ocean against her will. 

_Which, normally, fine, but when sand is involved?_

She doesn’t think so.

She opens the door to Tobin’s absolute shock and pleasure, and she watches her frantically stand up from where she was pleading against the door. 

“Oh, thank God,” Tobin blows out a breath of relief as she opens the door wider with her own hand, securing the entrance for herself as Christen hums with her arms crossed.

The thing is, if Tobin was relieved that she was finally over the whole thing, then fine, that’s cute and all. It’s just, she knows Tobin barely cares about that at all compared to the fact that she knows she can help her in the shower now.

It’s not like she actually believed Christen was really mad about it at all. 

She had known it was just some light teasing as usual. 

Apparently the sound of the shower had really pushed Tobin past the joking point, though. 

“You’re literally so dramatic, do you know that?” Christen asks fondly as she watches Tobin breathe in mock relief against the door.

She can finally see all the sand caked into Tobin’s wet clothes and against her skin now, just like her own, and she rolls her eyes at the mess.

_It did not have to be like this._

They could have been comfortably happy on the couch by now, cuddled up during a movie, safe and warm, but no.

Here they are, uncomfortably sticky and sandy from the ocean, just like they were when they were kids because Tobin likes to make messes with everything she does.

“Oh no,” Tobin whispers in pretend horror, “who did this to you?” She asks as she takes her in, very well knowing it was herself who did it to her.

She’s standing against the counter with her same drenched and sandy clothes, and she _absolutely_ is putting on her best grumpy look, because this is not comfortable. 

Christen rolls her eyes ferociously as she refuses to play along with this bit, she just wants to stop feeling like a giant piece of sandpaper already and be cuddled up warmly somewhere. 

Specifically against the clean version of the human in front of her.

She waves her off before she’s moving to the hamper, already knowing the sand is going to fly everywhere anyway, but she doesn’t care.

Tobin will clean it up.

It _is_ her mess.

She’s starting to take her shirt off finally, excited to get into the shower, when she feels Tobin’s hands finishing the job for her instead.

“Let me,” Tobin whispers happily in her ear as she continues with the button of her ripped jeans. 

Christen doesn’t want to laugh, not really, but she does anyway as she rests the back of her head against Tobin’s shoulder at her hero act, as if she didn’t just cause this whole thing. 

“If I ever catch who did this to you..” Tobin blows out a dramatic angry breath as she trails off, helping Christen out of her soaking wet jeans, one leg at a time. 

She didn’t want to play along with this, she really didn’t, but as she uses Tobin’s shoulder to keep her up while the latter is gently pulling her feet out for her, she feels her armor weaken.

“Yeah?” Christen asks playing along, “do you want a description of the person?”

“Oh..” Tobin shrugs innocently as she stands back up to face her with teasing eyes before she removes her own shirt happily over her head. “That won’t be necessary.”

“No?” Christen asks with eyes sparkling in the same innocent wonder. 

“Nope,” Tobin shakes her head, “I’ll figure it out on my own.” She lets her know as she brings her thumbs to the sides of her underwear in question. 

Christen hums as she leans against the wall with one slow nod, and the smug grin she gets in return almost makes her want to take it back as she feels them slide down. 

_Almost_.

It’s just, the feeling of apologetically wet kisses against her skin on her way back up feel too good to care, and when Tobin’s lips finally make it up to her own, she almost forgets about the sand entirely.

Except, now it’s even worse as she feels the small crunchy bits of sand in her teeth from where Tobin kissed it off her legs moments before. 

“ _Tobin_ ,” Christen groans into the kiss fondly, lightly pushing at Tobin’s chest and spitting out the bits of sand from her mouth Tobin has brought to her. 

“What? I’m not worth a little sand?” Tobin asks offended as Christen sighs a laugh up at the ceiling with her head against the wall. 

She’s about to answer her, really, she is, but the feeling of warm lips against her neck have her nuzzling into ocean damp hair with a sigh as she holds the back of her head to keep her there.

She can feel the warmth of it traveling up her spine as she pushes against the wall to get her body further into her own, and every thought she’s ever had disappears at the feeling. 

“You didn’t answer me,” Tobin whispers hotly against her jaw as she makes her way to her ear, and the feeling has her shiver as she waits for her to make it to her favorite spot. 

But it’s never that easy, is it.

“Chris,” Tobin breathes against her as she gives her a chaste kiss, but the feeling of fire in her lower belly is so distracting, she barely even wants to answer that.

So she hums.

“Answer the question.”

“What question?” Christen barely gets out as she feels Tobin continue her slow journey to her ear, and she’s so close, she can barely wait for the feeling of warm lips there.

“Do you mind a little sand in your mouth?” Tobin whispers hotly before finally bringing her lips to her earlobe, and when she feels her lightly nip at it, she feels her body go weak against the wall. 

Tobin had discovered this only three days ago, and it’s the worst and best thing that’s ever happened to her body. 

She doesn’t know what makes her ear so sensitive to her, maybe it’s the spot that lies behind it with her fingerprint, maybe it’s the fact that she uses it to hear her favorite voice.

She doesn’t know.

She just knows somehow, the feeling of Tobin’s lips and teeth being latched onto this spot drives her mad.

So mad, she would answer a million of the hardest questions to keep her there.

Easy.

“No,” Christen practically whimpers into her hair before she feels Tobin leave the spot with a small kiss, and before she can groan about the loss, her lips are back onto her own.

And maybe she didn’t like sand in her mouth a second ago, but maybe she’d feast on a large sandbox for these lips to stay here now. 

Maybe that was the lesson Tobin just taught her somehow. 

She’s just lucky when they’re finally under hot water and they’re being happily rid of the sand from their bodies, that she has her own little sand cleaner with her.

Even if sand never really got into those spots at all and she leaves with a leg cramp.

She leaves the shower clean with a smug Tobin behind her, and it’s really all she could ever want if she thinks about it.

∞

Can you fit four years of missed memories into four days? 

It’s not like that’s what they’re doing, but it is an interesting question.

It’s just.. it feels an awfully lot like that’s what they’re doing. 

They’re in a bubble, she knows they’re in a bubble. They haven’t left the house much, just a couple times to the beach and back for Nemo’s sake to run around.

It’s crazy to believe it, to believe you can fit that much time into just a couple days, and if she were asked that question any other time in her life she’d say no, there’s no way.

But if you’re asking her now, when she’s already gotten used to waking up to soft wet kisses trailing down her back like it’s been happening for years, well, she wouldn’t know how to answer.

If she’s entirely honest, it feels a whole lot like Tobin could really make _anything_ possible with this new look in her eyes.

But maybe they’re not making up for lost time, maybe this is just what it’s like, maybe this is just what being happy looks like for them, she doesn’t know.

She just knows she can’t lose this.

It’s almost laughable how nothing has really changed from when they were teenagers, they still do the same things together, they still stay up and make stories up. 

It’s just, now they laugh into each others lips while they do it.

Tobin still pretends she just wants to feed her bites of food, and Christen still believes it before she has sticky smudges of something all over her cheeks. 

It’s just, now Tobin kisses the mess off for her, and it’s not nearly as annoying as she always pretended it used to be. 

They still watch the same old animated movies on the couch, cuddled up close and warm.

It’s just, now she can play with Tobin’s hands the whole time and eventually climb into her lap and forget the movie is on at all.

Things are different, in the best of ways, but they’re also really kind of the same, too. 

And maybe there was a time when she hadn’t realized it, and a time when she was far too young to know, but she knows something now that’s very important.

The love they have, it’s untouchable, even from them.

There’s four years of hurt between them, a list of hurtful things that shouldn’t have been said, desperate pleas to the universe to just erase it all, the good and the bad. 

But not a single drop of love has spilled out of her cup, not once.

There’s just one problem. 

“This is hell,” Christen whispers as she lays on the couch upside down.

She’s as comfortable as can be, freshly showered and warm in Tobin’s sweatpants and hoodie. A soft blanket close by and an even softer dog by her head.

She made a pb&j while waiting for Tobin to get dressed and ready, and now she’s feeding Nemo small bites in between her own as she stares at the worst thing that’s ever happened.

_Tobin’s work schedule._

She hears Tobin‘s soft laugh from the hallway as she comes out to check on what she’s talking about, and she doesn’t think this is funny at all.

“Tobin,” Christen whines, “this is hell.”

“It’s like, eight hours.” 

“ _Hell_ ,” Christen corrects her as she stares at the ceiling sadly, “it’s hell.”

She doesn’t get an answer as she sighs and turns her head into Nemo’s where it’s laying on her shoulder, and she gives him kisses as he lays tiredly against her.

She wonders if he goes through this, too.

She throws Tobin’s work schedule back onto the coffee table behind her and refocuses on Nemo to see if he’d have some type of secret advice for this.

She has to imagine he’s a pro by now at being away from her for a couple hours, but he doesn’t seem to have anything at all for her.

_Or, maybe he’s just a dog._

“At least we have each other now,” Christen whispers to him and receives a soft paw to her chest, and she thinks he might just get it.

_Or, he just wants the last bite of her sandwich._

She lets him have it with a small laugh. 

A comfortable weight is above her before she can even realize Tobin is back, and when she finds teasing warm eyes, she rolls her own before she receives a chaste kiss from above.

Tobin is as soft as she is smug, and it drives her crazy. 

She can’t be that mad about the teasing she knows is coming when she’s below the warmest and safest presence she’s ever felt, though, can she? 

“Gonna miss me?” Tobin teases lightly in a whisper, her eyes searching her own, and yeah, Christen is going to miss her more than she can even admit without seeming pathetic.

_It’s just, they haven’t left the bubble yet._

This will be the first time the real world slowly seeps its way back into their lives, and maybe that’s kind of the worst thing she could think of right now.

It’s sort of a normal thing to feel, she’s sure, after all they’ve been through the last few years, finally having each other like this, it was only natural.

They needed the time to heal and to have.

They’ll be okay.

“Me too, you know,” Tobin whispers to her when she doesn’t get an answer as she lowers her body just the slightest to rest into her own.

_Soft as she is smug._

“I get it.” Tobin confirms softly to her before pressing another kiss to her lips. Her eyes are probably saying everything her mouth isn’t, and Tobin has always sort of got her in a sixth sense sort of way.

She knows.

And she knows that _she_ knows.

That’s just how this works.

But she doesn’t like to make everything easy for Tobin either, so she shrugs lightly under her like she’s got it a little wrong as she stares into her eyes.

“Who’s going to feed me?” Christen wonders with a soft sigh, like that’s her biggest worry, and Tobin sees right through it as she hums.

“I guess you’ll have to caveman it out like old times,” Tobin shrugs with a mocking pout.

Christen sighs dramatically as her eyes find the ceiling again, and Tobin’s laugh is as happy as she’s heard it.

Because really, what a blessing it is to be able to miss her like _this_ now.

She gets her, too.

“We have the rest of today and all day tomorrow,” Tobin whispers to her as she moves down to rest on her elbow, softly scratching behind Nemo’s ears where he’s fallen asleep next to them. 

“It’s New Years Eve tomorrow.” Christen smiles in realization up at her.

“It is,” Tobin nods happily with a goofy grin, and because she can, Christen moves her hand under her shirt, searching for the warm skin of her side and moving to her back.

Her skin is so soft and warm here, she thinks of it almost as her own lullaby as she moves her fingertips gently around. 

If Christen knew anything to be true though, it would be that Tobin is only _this_ happy about the special day tomorrow because of the fireworks she knows are to come at midnight. 

She’s happy to know that hasn’t changed one bit.

The three of them stay in a comfortable silence for a while on the couch, and it’s nice, it’s really nice. 

She’s entirely surrounded by her favorite sources of warmth in the world, Nemo on one side, Tobin on the other.

The thought of this being her little family now weighs comfortably warm on her chest as she watches both of their hands softly scratch at Nemo’s fur as he sleeps next to them. 

He did have quite the morning running around, she thinks.

His little snores as he lays knocked out sort of prove it, if her memory didn’t. Especially when he had to be hosed down in the back before coming in, apparently, it’s always quite the hassle.

She wishes she could explain to him that Tobin was the same way when they were kids, not that she really understands why.

The feeling of salt water and sticky sand for her was always a nightmare, but Tobin always seemed like she’d just rather keep it on like a coat.

_She’s a little beach bum._

The feeling of Tobin’s warm and comfortable weight against her own gets just a bit heavier as she feels her get comfortable beside her. 

And when she turns her forehead into her own, she already knows they’re going to fall asleep like this soon.

And she thinks there’s no better way to fall asleep. 

“We have to leave our bubble,” Tobin whispers sadly to her, as if she just made the same realization Christen did earlier. She blows out a sympathetic laugh at her, because yeah, they do. 

“Not until tomorrow,” Christen pulls back to smile.

“We’ll watch the fireworks with your dad?” Tobin wonders as Christen nods against her sleepily, because they probably should go back for a bit tomorrow. 

And it also was always sort of what they did. 

She can’t think of a better way to watch fireworks than with her whole family together as she sneaks kisses in the dark from her dream human.

“Okay, we’ll do that,” Tobin nods against her with a yawn.

She thinks Tobin may feel the same way. 

∞

“God, you’re so romantic,” Christen mocks dreamily behind her as she watches her throw hot pizza bagels messily all over the plate. 

She hasn’t touched one of those frozen pizza bagels in a long time, but she _does_ remember how damn hot they can be. 

“First of all,” Tobin turns around as she licks the sauce off her fingers with a small wince of pain from the burning. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.” 

“Secondly,” Tobin blinks matter of factly, “what is more romantic than someone burning their hands just to feed you?”

“Oh,” Christen raises her eyebrows dramatically, “I didn’t think of it like that.” 

Tobin hums with an unimpressed shrug as she crosses her arms against the counter, and Christen is quick to kiss her pouty lips with a laugh.

“My hero, thank you.” Christen corrects her earlier statement with a softer and longer kiss.

“And,” Tobin adds lastly after she chases her lips for a last quick kiss, bringing her hand in front of them with what is _apparently_ her secret weapon or something.

“I have a candle,” Tobin grins.

“That’s almost as hot as the pizza bagels,” she breathes scandalously, earning a small unimpressed scowl from her date.

“Letting you think that you’re funny is one of my many mistakes on this planet,” Tobin sighs as she lifts their plate and ignores the sharp offended gasp Christen lets out as she follows her to the living room.

_She’s totally funny._

She’ll give credit where credit is due.

The pizza bagels are a little messy on the plate where they wait on the coffee table, but the candle is pretty nice in the lowlight of the living room with two wine glasses and a cold bottle from last time. 

She had woken Tobin up with soft hands and thankful kisses for keeping her warm while they napped, and to her surprise, Tobin had the best idea in the world as her eyes sparkled dreamily into her own.

A date before they leave their bubble.

Well, it’s really just like any other night they’ve spent here, but, the idea of it being called a date _does_ feel nice, she won’t lie.

And Tobin put effort into it all, she made them a comfortable little pillow seat by the coffee table, she put soft music on and waited until it got dark out.

It may be her only date, and she may tease her because she can’t help it, but it’s the best date she could think of. 

She tells her as much into a kiss before she’s messily fed a pizza bagel and giving her date a soft warning look.

She’s happily rid of any sauce by the help of soft pouty lips a moment later anyway, so she forgives her easily.

She probably deserved this one for the teasing earlier, so she’ll take it without revenge.

“So, thank you for meeting me here tonight,” Tobin smiles happily as she watches Christen’s smiling eyes over her glass after they’ve eaten.

She decides she’ll play along, just for her tonight. 

“I’m happy you finally asked me out, I had been waiting _ages_.” 

“Yeah?” Tobin teases with a laugh as Christen nods. 

“I just hope our boss doesn’t mind,” Christen swallows her last bit of wine before clarifying at the soft confusion on Tobin’s laughing lips. 

“You know.. with the office dating policy and all that.”

“Oh, right,” Tobin pretends to remember, as if they’re two different people entirely now, taking Tobin’s game up a step.

They used to pretend to be other people all the time as kids, construction workers and teachers, firefighters and people who need to be rescued.

No reason to stop that now.

“I don’t think our boss will mind.. but Bob,” Tobin blows out a nervous breath, “Bob is going to be _so_ mad you’re not into him.”

“You think so?” Christen laughs against the couch cushion behind her head as she turns to watch her fully as she nods.

“You’re going to break his little heart,” Tobin whispers to her as she smiles happily mimicking her position. Christen shrugs as she thinks about it, because Bob never had a chance anyway.

“It happens,” she whispers as she shrugs one last small shrug, as if it just is what it is.

“Not with me though, right?” Tobin whispers, and it’s light and joking, she can see it at the corner of her lips, but she’ll answer this question seriously every time it’s ever asked.

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head quickly with wide smiling eyes, “never to you.”

Tobin accepts the answer happily with a chuckle before she’s bringing her into a wine sweet kiss, and the taste of frozen pizza bagels has never tasted so good to her.

“Good,” Tobin smiles when they part, “because I have plans.”

“Plans?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“What kinds?” Christen whispers against her. 

“The big kinds.” Tobin answers before she moves to push Christen down against their makeshift pillow seat, and she’s laughing the entire way down, because _this_ is not what she thought she meant.

But she’s definitely going to let the plans proceed.

She’s laughing into hungry kisses as she feels her body weight fall into her own, and she’s never been so happy to be kissed, even in her dreams. 

She’d kiss her for days if she’d let her, with the exception of a few breathing breaks and maybe some water, they could do it, they could definitely do it. 

She’d make it work.

Their date takes a small detour, but when Tobin apparently feels satisfied enough for the moment, she lets them finish their drinks to the sound of soft music around them.

They laugh for what feels like hours into the night, and maybe she’s just a _little_ bit tipsy after her second glass, she doesn’t know.

She could just be this high off of the moments she spends with the human in front of her.

The soft glow of the lowlights and her pretty little candle against her smiling face, and the sound of the playlist she knows Tobin put together for this, it’s all so much.

She just can’t believe she almost lost this.

And when the song fades into the next for the millionth time for the night, it feels different with this one, and maybe she shouldn’t even ask, because there’s no way Tobin would want to.

But she does ask.

She whispers it lightly, hoping it could come off as a joke if she doesn’t want to, hoping they can forget she asked, because it’s cheesy. 

_It’s way too cheesy._

“You want to?” Tobin whispers the question curiously, not sure if she’s serious maybe, and she gets it, that’s why she uttered the word the way she did.

But as she shrugs lightly, Tobin sees right through her, and she thinks it a lot, but she’s never been so happy for Tobin understanding her the way she does when she brings her up by her arm.

And when Tobin moves the table over for them, all she can think about is how she would drag her little twin mattress off her bed when they were little just like this to the center of the room. 

She feels the same way about it now as she did then.

She loves her.

She loves her because she has no idea how to do this, and Tobin has no idea how to do this either, but they’re doing it together, like they’ve done everything else for the first time together.

It’s what they do, they figure things out. 

Tobin holds her hand against her own, and she pulls her close as she moves, and it’s got to be right.

They could just be standing in the middle of the room moving like idiots, she doesn’t know, but it feels right, it feels right as she rests against her and Tobin moves them to the music.

She doesn’t know if this is what dancing is meant to be, but she does know whatever _this_ is, it’s better.

And maybe that’s how she feels about everything that has to do with Tobin, but so what.

It’s true.

Tobin never struck her as the romantic type, not that she had ever really thought about it, but just from what she had always known.

She just forgets sometimes that this Tobin is so different than the one she had known, even if in some ways she’s no different at all. 

She doesn’t know what counts as romantic and what doesn’t, but she knows this, this whole night, everything about the sparkle in Tobin’s eyes, it’s something akin to it.

If not exactly what it is entirely.

She wouldn’t care if she wasn’t romantic, if they just spent their days how they did when they were younger, she wouldn’t care, because she felt that was romantic too, even if it wasn’t meant to be.

She loves her so much it felt like it was most days.

Just feeling Tobin’s love feels romantic. 

She pays such close attention to every movement Tobin makes that she could make anything more serious than it is, because well, it is.

Tobin isn’t simple to understand.

She’s complex and it takes a lot of attention to detail to get it, but she’s had so much practice, it takes nothing at all to know what she’s feeling now.

Especially with all the new information she’s learned recently, that her touch can’t lie, that a kiss is never just something she gives because she wants to.

Everything Tobin does comes with a bravery and a strength that she can’t fully comprehend. 

She fought to _feel_ these things, to _show_ these things.

And so every movement she makes, it’s in nothing short of gratitude to whatever helped her here, Christen feels it in her touch.

And Christen hopes she feels the gratitude in the way she receives these things, too.

Because maybe the gratitude is for the universe, maybe it’s God, or maybe it’s just for Tobin herself and maybe it’s Christen sometimes, too.

But she wants to say thank you to whatever it is, because it’s everything to her.

“Thank you for coming home,” Tobin whispers to her soft and sweet, her hand comfortably warm at the small of her back, and her other one tucked safely into her own as they move.

She could mean from college, it would make the most sense, but she could also mean it the way Christen means it when she thinks it.

 _This_ , the love between them, it’s home, even when it’s under construction or feels far away, it’s still home.

So she presses her nose softly into her own before she meets her lips slowly, and when she pulls away she says the only thing she can, and she hopes she understands.

“I never left.”

And she realizes for the first time in her life, that maybe Tobin never did, either. 

  
  



End file.
